


Lessons

by xax



Category: Final Fantasy IX
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Double Penetration, Face-Fucking, Facial Hair, Facials, Fisting, Furry, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Prolapse, Role Reversal, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Spitroasting, Threesome - M/M/M, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-05-18 17:53:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 30,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5937508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xax/pseuds/xax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amarant is ostensibly a bounty hunter, but the actual collecting-bounties part is too much of a hassle to bother when he's also a wanted man. But there's something about his latest mark that leaves his attention piqued long after he's let them go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Listen. This is just _shameless_ idfic PWP. I originally wrote this in 2013 and didn't post it here, but now years later I decided to give it a quick once-over edit and finally post it. Partly because I wrote a second chapter that might see light here before 2019.

Treno was a boring town. Half of it was slums: a bunch of rat-warren tunnels with shacks sprouting off, by the riverside; the other half was rich estates, higher up, huge rough rock buildings with gardens and plazas. Between the two of them there was always enough work, but none of it was ever _interesting_. The only thing that kept him here, instead of Alexandria or Lindblum or even Burmecia, was that the watch was useless. Depending on the night, it was either a bunch of rowdy low-lives or some inexperienced lordlings. It made bounty-hunting a lot easier, especially when the one doing the hunting had a pretty hefty price on his head as well.

So for Amarant it was a passable town, the least bad of a few awful options. He had a serviceable house, under a bridge by the river's edge, with an ever-burning lamp outside his bedroom window. He didn't have to hide himself, even with the posters of his profile and bounty tacked up in all the bars; everyone either knew well enough not to mess with him or didn't stand a chance in hell of actually catching him.

Which brought him to tonight: no bounties worth his while, just useless pick-pocketing small fry, and he had the urge to commit some violence bubbling under his skin. Treno was well known for its brawls, but all he had to do to put a stop to one was wade in with his knuckles bare before everyone would realize they had other commitments than getting beaten to a pulp.

He was actually deigning to go after one of the small fry, with some absolutely pathetic number under his portrait, a fleetfoot who'd been pickpocketing on the rich side of town. His mark was a Burmecian, not many of those in town to begin with, and from just the awful sketches of his face on the poster it was easy to see this one was a particularly scrawny one, with short scruffy hair that radiated out behind him like a dandelion puff and a perpetual smirk.

The one good thing about chasing down Burmecians was that they took to the rooftops, using their strong legs to hop around like no human could ever hope to follow. It was always a challenge to track them like that, leaping and bounding across the rooftops to match. But even at that, the guy was failing: he moved well enough, but he was _loud_ , and all Amarant had to do was follow the trail of broken shingles; not that he even had to do that anymore, since he'd sighted the Burmecian a good hour ago and let him know he was being followed. The chase was the best part, and if he was letting himself flag a little to draw it out longer, well, no one'd have to know that save himself.

He alit on the edge of one of the more solid shanties, one that had been a reputable building once, and leapt off again in an instant. The Burmecian had abandoned the rooftops and gone to ground in the most literal fashion, and Amarant could see his dark silhouette against the cobblestones as he ducked into a narrow back-alley. At this point it was over with already; maybe he was trying to get into the undercity or maybe he was just tired, but no matter what he was trying Amarant was finally close enough to end things.

He dropped down directly in front of him, swinging from one of the overhanging eaves, and the Burmecian, the posters said he went by "Dan", started back in surprise. Yeah, the portrait had done him justice. He looked scruffy, like all Burmecians, really, but he was a lot scruffier than usual— his fur was spiked up in all directions, thin and patchy in places. Thick scars ran across his body, further interrupting his uneven fur with lumpy, bare lines. He was scrawny, too. It looked like he hadn't eaten well in a long time, and with each breath the hull of his ribcage became visible through his scarce fur. All he was wearing was a pair of ragged pants, too loose on his thin frame, and they'd obviously been too long on him before; the cuffs had been torn off completely, and the fabric there was frayed and ragged.

He didn't seem to mind Amarant looking him over now that he was well and truly cornered; he curled his lip up in a sneer and picked between his yellowed teeth with the tip of his dagger. Amarant narrowed his eyes.

"So you're the one who's been chasing me," Dan said with a growl in his voice, "The Flaming Amarant, right? I know I've been beat," he said with a smirk. "But we could work something out. I could pay my bounty twice over, if you just—" he said, cut off when Amarant punched him solidly on the jaw, hard enough he staggered back against the alley wall. Amarant had his claws on, but only on one hand— he wanted to drag things out for a while.

Amarant grabbed at Dan's shoulders before he recovered, almost casually slamming his hand against the wall and forcing his dagger from his fingers. It hit the ground with a clang, but before it had even stilled Amarant had dragged him back against the other wall, into a dim alcove, barely two shoulder's-width wide and deep. "Don't insult me," Amarant said with a growl, satisfied to see Dan tremble as he locked his hands back. "I won't be bought off for a pittance."

"Four! No, six times!" he squeaked out. "Or more! I got a lot of valuables—" but this time he just stopped abruptly when Amarant growled at him.

"I didn't find you for the _money_ ," he practically spat. He slammed Dan back against the wall again, and the blades on his right hand sung when they scraped against the wall an inch from Dan's head. "You ran well enough for a rat, but now I've caught you. Don't think you can bribe me out of it."

"I— I don't want to bribe you, but I'm sure we could come to an understanding," Dan said, hurriedly, "You're the Amarant, right, and I know people say—"

Amarant laughed, a sharp bark. "And what do they say about the Flaming Amarant, huh?" he said with a leer, his huge hands splayed across Dan's shoulder.

Dan looked at him, not as afraid as Amarant would've liked. "They say you like hurting people. Or hunting them. They say you chop people up for the fun of it. Or you start fights just 'cause you get off on it." He gulped, "And you've been caught with your pants down in alleys fucking bounties more times than anyone can count." All of which was more-or-less true, but of course no one ever said it to his face.

"Well, I can think of some things I'd rather do than chop you up," Amarant said with a sneer, groping at his cock. "Been a while since I've gotten laid."

Dan didn't even look surprised, just looked at it him with that smirk that made Amarant want to hurt him. "I figured you'd be into weird shit," Dan said, punctuated by a groan as Amarant felt across his chest and pinched at his nipples, broad and stiff under his fur.

"You seen me before?" He kept working at them for a second, until Dan's dazed expression made him realize he was really _liking_ it.

"Saw your bounty posters," Dan said with a hitch in his breath as Amarant ground against him. "Like everyone else. You're hot." He let out a nervous breath, like the first half of a laugh. "In person, too. And scary."

"Shouldn't compliment me by saying I look good to a rat," Amarant said gruffly. "Get on your knees."

Dan sunk down slowly, keeping their gaze locked together until his knees finally hit the cobblestones, his head just about level with Amarant's crotch.

"Hold out your hands," Amarant said as he unbuckled his belt. Dan did, a little slowly, and Amarant yanked them back behind Dan's back and tied his belt around Dan's forearms, tight, before pushing him back, toppling him against the further wall in the small space. Between Dan's splayed legs he could see a bulge in his ragged pants, big enough it looked like he was hard already. Dan's gaze darted back and forth between Amarant's face and his hands, tugging at the lacing of his pants. Amarant was half-hard just from the physical contact, and Dan stared at the growing bulge until Amarant finally jerked his laces loose enough to let his cock jut out, hanging half-hard between his loose coattails.

He pulled Dan's head forward, so his muzzle bumped against his cock, his head pressed against one thigh. "Lick it," he said, but Dan had already opened his mouth, his tongue darting out to lap at his skin.

Amarant let him go so he could ruck up his shirt, pulling the entire loose thing off one arm, gathering it all across his shoulder and one arm, out of the way as he thrust his cock forward across Dan's face.

He let out a low grunt as Dan sucked the tip of his cock into his mouth, lapping at the tip, still covered with his foreskin. Amarant held his jaw open and thrust deeper, grunting lowly as Dan tried to give him a slobbery blowjob, his tongue practically coiled around his cock until he pulled back with a slurp and started stroking it himself.

"I'm gonna come in your mouth, and you're gonna swallow it," he said, his cock already fully hard. He shoved Dan back again, until he was lying back against the wall, and stroked his cock just barely above his face, sometimes colliding with his lips.

Amarant panted as he jerked himself off. Dan's breath was hot and wet against the underside of his shaft, and his tongue kept darting out across his knuckles, once licking across his cockhead like a bolt of lightning. He huffed, considering grabbing Dan's head and grinding it across his cock, pressing his sweaty balls up against his cheek as he fucked his face. He grunted again, a few drops of precome dripping down into Dan's mouth, who moaned.

He was close to coming, he could feel it swell up inside him, but just as he was nearing the point of no return he felt something heavy and wet and hot slap against his legs, and he jolted back, skittish. Dan had managed to un-knot his pants somehow even with his hands tied behind his back; they were bagging down around his knees.

His cock was hanging out, across his body, and it was enormously, gigantically oversized, especially on his scrawny frame. It was as thick— _thicker_ — as one of his thin, bony arms, and almost as long. Amarant shifted back in surprise, half standing up over him, and that was enough for him to see Dan's wormy tail wrapped around the base of it, coiling tighter and looser like a snake.

His balls were even more absurd, so huge around Dan couldn't have been able to grab them one-handed— hell, _he_ couldn't have held one of them in his hand. He felt his mouth drop open at it, and a half-second later Dan let out another breathy moan and a rope of come that looked as thick as his finger pelted out of his huge, swollen cockhead and shot across the patchy fur on his neck. Dan arched his hips up and Amarant shied back as his bloated, slick shaft pressed up against his cock, leaving behind wet streaks of his precome.

Like his mind had been completely blown out of his body, leaving it to fend for himself, he found himself watching as he braced one hand on the wall Dan was slumped against and leaned forward until his cock was right against Dan's lips again, his right hand frantically jerking as the splatter of Dan coming sounded below him. Wet streamers of come shoot in messy arcs against Dan's chest and neck, splattering up against his face and hanging in messy lines from the underside of Amarant's cock. Dan's come was hot and slippery against his hand, and it squelched between his fingers as he stroked. His breath pounded in his lungs and he felt his lips moving as he exhaled, mouthing words he didn't even know he was saying.

Amarant shot off maybe the hardest he'd ever in his life; the first spurt blasted past Dan's face entirely to hit the wall over him, and he shot off again just as forcefully, his come just barely roping across Dan's scraggly hair until he aimed down with a snarl and caught Dan right across the face with the rest of his load. His come webbed across Dan's fur lightly, painting his face in long streaks, still coming across his narrow muzzle even when it felt like his balls were empty, pulled up tight against the base of his shaft as he kept stroking on autopilot, his hand wet and slick with his come.

He almost collapsed forward onto him when he finally ran dry, a final pulse that eked a fat drop. He wiped it across Dan's face, grinding his come into the rat's fur, and looked down at him with a tired grin. Dan's tongue snaked out and lapped at his cockhead, and his whole body rocked like he'd been electrocuted, his cock proving it a lie when it twitched again and shot another string of come into his mouth, gaping open as he groaned.

"G-gonna come," Dan said, muffled and almost incomprehensible with Amarant's cockhead stretching out his lips, against the inside of his cheek.

Amarant knelt back, his legs sagging beneath him as he crashed back against the far wall, his dazed and fuzzy post-orgasm mind dimly looking at the huge mess of come across Dan's chest that completely dwarfed his own load, splattered in wet streaks across his face. Dan was still jerking himself off as he came, come pelting out of him in thick ropes that seemed too heavy to do anything aside from sluggishly spurt on his chest. His fur was completely matted down across his chest, practically immersed in his come as he just kept coming and coming.

Except then Dan cried out, surprised and loud, and _came_. His rat-like tail finally stopped its writhing and clutched down tight around the base of his cock, making the rest of it flare out even huger, engorged with trapped blood. Dan let out a shriek like he was getting _murdered_ as his cock swelled up, his pointy, tapered cockhead flaring out almost like an umbrella as a huge blast of come shot out, like the biggest hose in the world with someone's thumb over the end.

Come sprayed in absolutely every direction, the worst of it focused down on Dan, but a spray of it coated the walls and splattered against Amarant's open shirt and bare chest, painting his pants with white spots that quickly turned dark and glossy. Dan's yells became muffled abruptly as he hit himself in the mouth, gurgling through the thick mess drooling out of his open muzzle.

And he _kept coming_ , that just the first blast of many more, absolutely burying his body in his load. His cock jerked and thumped, bobbing up and down wildly from the sheer recoil of ejaculation, further spraying his come in every direction. There were audible soggy gushing sounds, even over the splatter of his come hitting the walls, as it flowed over Dan's twitching body and pooled on the cobblestones below.

The wet glug of his orgasm just continued on what seemed like forever. Even after the huge wet spurts subsided his cock kept twitching and pelting out bolts of come across his chest and face, each spurt a little smaller than the one before but not by much. Like he wasn't even the one doing it, Amarant felt himself grab his cock, half-hard and somehow already stiffening again, and jerk it back and forth. His palm was covered in Dan's load already, he realized with the wet squish of his strokes, and that somehow, perversely, made his cock stiffen further.

He was already achingly hard, his balls churning as they slapped back against his body with each stroke, and before he was even aware of what he was doing he had leaned forward, straddling the come-covered mess of Dan's body, his cock aimed right at his face. Dan noticed, even in the middle of his never-ending orgasm, and opened his mouth wide. Flabby ropes of come drooled down the side of his muzzle at that, and already there was a pool of come in the back of his mouth, deep enough to slosh as Dan angled his head forward, his lips just barely brushing against Amarant's cockhead.

It was the most abrupt orgasm of his life, but suddenly Amarant found himself just coming again, the second time in as many minutes, heavy strings of come shooting into Dan's mouth and across his lips, already stick and shiny with his own come. He jerked on his cock desperately, grunting and panting as he came, and almost collapsed onto Dan's filthy frame afterwards, onto his still-spurting cock, messy wet burbles of come drooling in a thick, solid pile on his chest.

He felt himself tip forward, about to actually fall down on top of Dan, and only a sudden lurch that skinned his knuckles on the wall beside him kept him from it. He stared down at Dan still lying there, sprawled out. His ratty tail was wound tightly around his bulging cock and absurdly huge balls like some kind of perverse knotwork, and as he just leaned against the wall and stared Dan slowly unwound it and twisted it tightly around his cock, curling it back and forth like a constricting snake.

The final wet gel of Dan's load looked _solid_ , like some kind of obscene pudding, and even as he thought that Dan reached up with one trembling arm — belt dangling from his wrist, leather shiny with come — to shove the heavy mass off his chest, sliding down his side and pulling more with it, all tethered together by thick, slimy ropes. Dan sat up, fresh come still running down his cock, and stared at Amarant, his pants still spread open and his half-hard cock hanging out, splattered with both their loads. Dan swallowed, thickly, and licked his lips, and Amarant found himself staring as Dan swallowed again, drinking down the mess of come they'd shot all across his face.

Amarant came to himself with what felt like a rushing wind blowing through him. He glared down at Dan, both of them still breathing hard.

"Well," he started, and had to take a breath. "I guess we'll be even for now." Dan practically snarled at him, baring his pointy, ratty teeth. Amarant turned away abruptly, refusing to actually run away so much as walk purposefully in another direction, even if his cock was still hanging out the front of his pants. He stuffed it back in and laced them up as well as he could, sparing the briefest glance back to Dan, shakily standing up, a visible pool of come surrounding him, gleaming white in the moonlight. His cock gave a little lurch, stiffening into turgidity as he felt back; Dan's lips against his cock, the filthy, rank smell of Dan's come spraying across them both, his own mind-blowing orgasm.

His legs still felt weak; he could walk without stumbling but there was no way he could take the rooftops back to his place, not tonight.

He was all the way back to his house, and busy trying to not think about jerking off, by the time he realized he'd left his belt with Dan.

* * *

It was looking to be another tedious, boring night. There were no bounties posted, aside from his own, and no one was dumb enough to try that, either. What he wanted was a brawl, one that he'd come out bruised and bloodied and on top of the heap, and then maybe he could go off with whichever one of the losers was most pliable and fuck 'em. Even the bar was almost empty, not even enough people for a proper house-wrecking fight. The bartender was probably happy about that, at least; he'd been eying Amarant with a worried expression since he got there.

He was getting pretty drunk, and dimly considering yelling for food, when the thump and squeak of the door swinging open caught his attention. It took a second for his eyes to focus properly, but when they did he just grinned and made an uneven beeline to the door.

"Hey," he said, and grabbed Dan by the lapels. "C'mere."

Dan looked surprised and presumably worried, but Amarant was already dragging him with a loose grip to a back room, quiet and almost deserted, and then into a narrow, dark hallway off from there.

Dan twitched in his grasp, so Amarant hoisted him close, growling in his ear. "I said, come the fuck here," he said, but even to his ears it sounded like a long, inarticulate grumble. Whatever, at least Dan stilled and let him drag him back into the darkness of the hallway.

The narrow hallway was only a few feet wide. There were shallow doorways filled with equally narrow doors spaced evenly along the hall. It was very dark; there were no lights in the hall and the lanterns in the main room didn't reach back into the hallway.

He pulled Dan to the back, to the narrow disused back steps to the upper level. Dan stumbled at first, like he hadn't expected steps, but followed him up. Amarant stopped halfway up the steps, between floors.

It was pitch black; the faintest light filtered up from downstairs. He looked over to where Dan must have been, only really capable of telling where he was by his grasp on his wrist and the general heat and sound that meant a living presence, even in the dark.

Amarant slid his hand up across Dan's elbow, mussing the fur all the way to his upper arm, until his hand was half under Dan's tunic sleeves. He shifted forward, hearing a set of disconnected sounds that must have been Dan falling back against the far wall of the narrow steps. He leaned closer to pin him to the wall; he grasped at the railing by Dan's hip with his free hand, penning him in.

He pressed against Dan's body, all bones with the barest covering of muscle. Their knees knocked together just a fraction of a moment before his upper arm pressed against Dan's shoulder. He stooped down to match their heights, and so he could press his lips across Dan's neck, fur soggy under his lips. He pushed Dan's arm up, pinning it to the wall, unable to repress a grin as he did so.

He pressed a light kiss against Dan's collarbone, sliding up to press a heavier, open-mouthed kiss against the underside of his muzzle. Dan started back, probably banging the back of his head against the wall, and Amarant pulled back as well, grinning wide and somewhat toothily.

"I wanna make you come," he said, low and kind of loose, slurring from the booze. "Right here," he added, so he was sure Dan understood. He was going to say something else, but he lost his train of thought as he pushed against Dan, rubbing his face against the short fur across his neck. He wasn't entirely sure he'd be doing this if he wasn't drunk; he wanted to shove Dan to his knees and make him suck him off, but right now Amarant wanted to get on his knees a lot more. He nipped at Dan's jaw, his hands fumbling across his belt. He shoved Dan's pants down, already reaching in with one hand to cup his sheath and run his fingers across his huge balls.

Amarant sunk forward, like his legs were giving out on him, and slid down Dan's body until his left knee clunked loudly on the steps. He almost toppled over, and his right knee came down on the next lower step. He felt lopsided, his hair hanging down at an angle as he tilted, trying to find a good pose. Dan's dick jutted out from his body, only the stubby tip exposed, a bulge outwards from his crotch.

He knew it was a bright, disgusting red-pink, but all its color was lost in the darkness, only the slightest shape visible. He licked across the longer fur just above it, tasting sweat and dirt and a rank animal musk. He worked his huge hands around his sheath and jerked it like it was a dick. Dan's balls jounced slowly below, and he brought a hand down to attempt to cup one of the immense things. Each one was huge, as big as his head, and lopsided like a bean, fur sweaty and damp.

Dan's dick jutted out, minutely sliding further as Amarant licked across it. Amarant took what'd emerged so far into his mouth and slobbered loudly, working his lips around the thick shaft. Dan let out a shaky gasp and thrust forward, grabbing Amarant's dreads in the same motion and shoving him forward until his nose ground against the soggy fur above Dan's crotch, rank musk filling his nose. Amarant's beard scratched against Dan's thighs as he bobbed back and forth. Dan's dick slid out of his sheath fast, until almost all of its huge length was out, half-hard and heavy, flaccid, but still almost as long as a man's arm. Amarant had to draw back as it spilled out, after Dan ground his head down and the tip pressed against the back of his mouth. He coughed wetly against the back of his hand as Dan's cock popped from his mouth.

Amarant stroked Dan's long, thick dick, his flesh limp and spongy but stiffening, already slippery with Amarant's spit. He took it into his mouth again, opening wide. His lips fit around it, but the absurd girth of it forced him to open wide in a perpetual yawn to keep his teeth away. And it was still half-hard; not as thick as it would be soon.

The tip of it pushed against the back of his mouth, leaking out thin, slippery fluid tastelessly down his throat. He inhaled in a rush and leaned forward, blocking his airway with Dan's dick, sending it down his throat. He swallowed around it, a wet gulping slurp escaping from his mouth as he pursed his lips around the shaft.

His face was already flushed from the booze; he could feel the heat on his face, but he heated up as he choked on the cock. He tried to inhale, automatically, and that just increased the suction and pulled him deeper, Dan's wet, slick flesh sinking further into his mouth and expanding to hardness in his throat.

Amarant pulled off again with a wet slurp, gasping and choking as what he had in his mouth emerged. Thick, clear strands of phlegm hung from his dick, spanning out to Amarant's bruised lips. He hadn't even gotten half of it in, not even a third, and it was still hardening, plumping up and lengthening, the shaft stiff and rigid sticking straight out from Dan's crotch.

"Fuck my mouth," Amarant growled with what remained of his breath, voice already rasping and thick from his ravaged throat. He panted horsely and dived back on Dan's huge cock. He took a gasping breath right as the fat, dripping tip of Dan's dick surged down his throat, visibly bulging out his neck. He grunted inarticulately, Dan's dick driving into him, the fat, flared tip feeling like it was building up a plug of slimy fluid as he bobbed back and forth, squeezing Dan's huge dick down his bulging throat. He sucked loudly on the shaft, long strings of spit dripping off to splatter on the steps. Amarant clenched his arms around Dan's hips, trying to physically pull himself onto Dan's absurd cock.

Dan made the faintest motion, tangling his hands in Amarant's dreads and bucking his hips forward minutely, and Amarant choked. He coughed even as he pulled off, Dan's cock emerging clotted with heavy globs of spit and precome and phlegm, all of it in a thick mixture and sliding sluggishly down to the underside of his shaft. Amarant's chest heaved as he sucked in a breath of air, almost choking as he coughed. He looked down and spit, a fat glob of fluid splattering between them, then wiped the drooling trail off his lips and beard with the back of his hand, face flushed a deep, ruddy red.

He thumbed open his belt buckle, tugging his hard dick out from his pants, slicking it down with his hand, covered in spit and precome. He jerked it roughly in his off-hand as he closed his fist around the base of Dan's cock, the shaft far too thick for his fingers to close around it.

He looked down the length of Dan's cock, jutting out like a massive prong from his furry crotch. His face felt hot, flushed, and he was acutely aware of the heated skin of his neck and shoulders, the sensation trailing down across his chest. He was sweating hard, and his shirt was plastered to his back with damp lines of sweat trailing from his armpits. He was only half-aware of his own rasping pants, his breath spilling warm in the already hot stairwell. Dan's dick felt sizzling hot in his hand, jerking in time to his rapid heartbeat. Amarant could feel his own heart pump, a pulsing rush all through his body.

He leaned close to Dan, his drooling cockhead drizzling precome into his beard, the rank smell of it filling his nostrils as he opened his mouth wide. The fat, blunt head pressed past his lips, flattening his tongue to the bottom of his mouth. Its girth completely filled him; the edges of the shaft pushed along his molars as he took it in, breathing rapidly and shallowly through his nose as its meaty, salty taste filled his mouth.

Dan rocked forward again and the drooling tip mashed against the back of his mouth. Amarant almost gagged, mouth flooding with saliva and drooling out with wet plops past his bruised lips. He swallowed, lips slurping wetly around Dan's shaft as his throat opened up, and he inhaled deeply one last time. He pushed himself up and forward, knees spreading wide as he took in more of Dan's dick, completely blocking off his air again as it surged down his throat.

His throat bulged out, flesh straining to contain the huge shaft forcing his jaw wide open, pushing against the soft tissue in the back of his mouth as it worked against the bend of his throat. He could feel the wet drool of Dan's precome sliding down his throat, the thick fluid piling up and making him want to cough as it stuck in clumps against the lining of his throat. His lips worked against Dan's shaft, not able to close around its girth even as it plunged further into him. Thick lines of drool hung from his lips, snapping and dropping to the steps with wet splats as he bobbed back and forth frenetically, his throat spasming against the massive invader.

Amarant managed to push himself deeper, somehow. Dan's shaft, a dark grey that must have been vivid red in full light, slid almost roughly against his stretched lips. Dan's cockhead, already in his throat, plowed through thick layers of phlegm and precome, deeper and deeper into his esophagus. Amarant bobbed back and forth, pushing himself off Dan's dick with his hands against his hip, only to sink back down with a wet burbling slurp.

Amarant slurped back and forth, sinking deeper, until the need for air drew him back. The huge length of cock he'd taken slid out of his mouth with a sloppy gush of fluid that splattered down between them. Mucousy lines of spit clung from the last few inches of Dan's dick, connecting back and forth to Amarant's bruised lips. He made no move to break them as he panted, breath rasping thickly with his mouth and throat clogged with precome. His breath rattled in his throat and even deeper, so that each breath almost brought on a coughing fit. His face was beet red, his lips red and bruised, bloated thicker from the mammoth dick. He stared at the side of it, able to tell by the thick coating of spit and precome how deep he managed to take it— somewhere around two-thirds of the way in.

Amarant growled, rasping out a completely inarticulate phrase. He coughed and spat down and his whole body jerked as the wet glob splattered against his flushed, rock-hard dick. He panted more, coughing uncontrollably as he jerked himself off, working his slick, achingly-hard dick. He looked up at Dan, his dick smearing a thick ooze of precome against his cheek.

"C'mon," he said, voice just barely comprehensible under the thick rasp. "Fuck my mouth," he panted out, wheezing. He said more, but it was a rough, incomprehensible growl, and even he didn't know what he wanted to say.

He dove back down on Dan's dick, his throat opening easier this time. When Dan jerked his hips forward, Amarant's throat spasmed but he took it as his cock squelched deeper. He swallowed, working his throat desperately to avoid gagging as Dan plunged his cock into him, his hands finally grasping his head under his dreads and yanking him down.

Amarant's face was stuck in a perpetual yawn, mouth open as wide as possible as Dan slammed his dick into his mouth, the bloated-out middle of his shaft scraping against the smooth sides of his molars as he forced it into his throat, his neck bulging outwards from the thick dick impaling him. Dan's cock poured out precome; even with it stuck deep in him the wet glurping slop of it increased perceptibly with each thrust as he fucked it back and forth, further and further down his esophagus, a weight of pre gathering in his belly.

Amarant pulled his face back and forth, wet squelching, farting noises coming from his fucked-open mouth as Dan started pulling hard against Amarant's unresisting head. It felt like Dan was burying his dick down below Amarant's throat, somewhere in his chest, with only a few fat inches of his hard, red dick outside his slobbering mouth.

Dan pushed him mostly off his dick, the spurting head coming back out of his throat along with a flood of spit, drooling out of his mouth in long strings, and Amarant took a gasping breath around his cock, coughing and hacking as his desperate breaths tickled the layers of precome drooling down his throat. Dan shoved his dick back in before he could get in a good breath, and Amarant's ragged breath cut off in a wet gurgle as almost the entire length slammed into him, down his throat and even deeper, hilting everything save a short spit-splattered length; Amarant's nose was almost rubbing against the tufts of fur above his dick.

Amarant moaned inaudibly, the noise just vibrating around Dan's cock as he shot off. His cock erupted with his fist wrapped loosely around it. He made little gasping, grunting noises as he came, his entire body seizing up as he shot in hard blasts, his purplish-red cockhead flared out to shoot in a high arc, streamers of come hitting across the steps and more burbling slowly down his cock, across his knobby knuckles until it dripped off in little drops between his legs. His muscles jerked uncontrollably with the final, aching spurts of his cock that sent a liquid dribble pouring down his shaft, coating his balls and staining his pants dark, throat spasming around Dan's shaft the whole time.

He knew he was choking, dimly, but he didn't bother pulling back as he was wracked by his orgasm. Dan was the one who did it, settling back against the wall and pushing Amarant back, until his cock emerged from his throat. He panted automatically, breath wheezing around the final few inches of Dan's dick, still in his mouth.

He was drooling again, he realized as he panted, lips spread wide and Dan still spurting out precome, heavy strings of fluid drooling out across his lips and dripping slowly through his beard, hanging down in long, thick strings. He pulled back with a wet pop, his breath coming clearer as he panted with his mouth lolling open. Dan's cock was spurting precome with enough force to splatter wet trails across his face, collecting at his nose and chin to dangle in heavy, jiggling chains until they snapped and fell down, adding more mess to the steps below.

He sat back against the other wall, wheezing hard. Wet strings between his lips and Dan's cockhead pulled out but didn't snap, given it was only a scant inch or two further between them in the narrow stairway. The web of drool and precome hanging from his chin swung back and he looked up, plastering across his stained, sweaty shirt. Breathing felt wet, like he'd gotten precome in his lungs somehow, and Dan was spurting out more still, splattering and smearing against the side of his face. It dripped down the wall and leaked over the edge of the step, dripping with a sound like raindrops.

Amarant pulled at his shirt, smearing his dripping, come-stained fingers across the fabric. He tried to open it, fumbling and popping as many buttons off as he managed to undo, until it gaped open to reveal his ruddy, hairy chest. He was sweating freely, his hair dark and matted against his unnaturally pale skin, now flushed an ugly violet-red as he growled and panted, struggling to pull off his shirt. Its usually-loose folds were soaked with sweat and other fluids and it clung tightly to him. He eventually tore the tangled bundle off his arms and tossed it up the stairs where it landed in a flapping heap.

Even in the dim light he could see his flush. It reached down all across his chest, practically to his dick, half-hard with a stubborn trail of come hanging from the head. He tugged his pants down further, spreading them across his huge, muscled thighs. They were even more splattered and stained than his shirt; Dan's precome had left huge wet blotches where it had splattered down across them. More was soaking in every second as drops from his cock spurted across his shaft and dropped down, across his bare stomach and the front of his pants.

Amarant looked up, facing the titanic pillar of Dan's cock straight on, the tip burbling wetly. He tried to say something, but it only came out as a hoarse grunt. His throat was aching and raw, lined with thick clotted precome. His lips were sore and felt bloated and stretched, and his mouth felt... baggy, almost, after being open wide for so long.

He took the very tip of it in his mouth and the rank, salty taste filled his mouth again as Dan's precome spurted, pooling in the back of his mouth until he swallowed with a rough, sore pang. He opened his aching jaw wide and let his bruised lips slurp around Dan's dripping shaft. Dan grinned and huffed, his narrow chest heaving as he panted too. He grabbed hold of Amarant's head again and pulled him forward, slowly but inexorably. Even the muscles of Dan's twiggy arms were enough to force him deeper, not that he had any interest in pulling back.

Amarant moaned as Dan pulled his head closer, forcing his cock back into him and down his throat, the noise muffled and then cut off as his cock pushed his tongue flat, immobile as his mouth was filled with his bloated shaft. It slid easily, almost unobtrusively, down his throat, as always testing the confines of his body, each heartbeat through Dan's shaft enough to stretch Amarant's throat. He didn't even notice when his breath was cut off, impossible to swallow or talk or breathe, as burbles of precome and spit started dribbling out past his aching, bruised lips.

Dan pulled Amarant back and forth, dragging his head unresponsively along his cock, his body following behind like a ragdoll. Dan shoved Amarant's head back just enough for him to suck in a hoarse, messy breath before plunging him back down, forcing his slick, dripping cock back down Amarant's throat. Dan was spurting precome like a faucet, fat slick trails of it shot down into Amarant's stomach and caught in his throat, some working their way up around his churning shaft to spill in a frothy burble out of his mouth. He drank it down, not that he had a choice, unable even to swallow with his ravaged throat stuffed full of dick, while the rest spilled in a constant stream out past his lips.

Amarant gagged, feeling vaguely like he was going to hurl with his stomach filled to bursting with precome, with more always pouring into him in salty bitter gobs, thick and stringy as Dan shot tastelessly in his throat. Dan didn't let him up for a breath as Amarant spasmed around his cock, coughing ineffectually with his throat still blocked, only managing to send the thick, slippery mixture burning up through his sinuses with a watery sting until it drooled out his nose, his eyes watering as he kept coughing and choking.

Dan kept pounding away, using both hands now to drag Amarant's face back and snapping his hips forward at the end, each time shoving almost all his cock into him. His head-sized balls slapped against Amarant's jaw, burying his face in the coarse, patchy fur across Dan's stomach as his cock sunk all the way into him with a sickening lurch.

The head of it popped into Amarant's _chest_ , somewhere below his collarbone. Amarant's hands were wrapped in a death grip around Dan's legs, and he hadn't even realized he was doing it until he flexed his hands and found them like gnarled claws digging into Dan's thighs. Dan kept fucking his face, slamming his cock down to the root with each thrust. The wet flood of precome pulsed deep inside him, and with each thrust the flared head of Dan's cock popped back and forth through some tight hole at the bottom of his throat, expanding like a plug when it sunk into his chest only to pop out with an almost painful jerk, like Dan was going to yank his throat out through his mouth.

He dimly felt Dan hilt himself and stay there; his nose ground against his pubic bone as his lips split with a sting of pain, followed by a further low throb as Dan's salty precome poured across the split. Even the pain seemed distant and blurry, and it was hard to tell if he had his eyes open or not. His fingers tensed and spasmed around Dan's thighs, clenching and relaxing like they weren't a part of him, and the low ache in his knees, even as it stepped up in pitch, felt less immediate. He sucked hard on Dan's cock, vainly trying to inhale and only dragging his cock deeper, his lips kissing the edges of his bloated, wrinkled sheath.

Amarant came again, abruptly, and his entire body jerked and spasmed, thrashing back and forth with Dan's cock spiked down to his core. His eyes rolled back in his head, eyelids fluttering, as his cock spat strings of come. His heartbeat thundered through his body, throbbing in his ears as he shot off and drowning out everything else. Pleasure like lightning shot up through his guts, like it was arcing between his cock and his mouth, aching and sore. The thick muscles of his neck spasmed and knotted, moving his jaw as much as he could, working it slightly against Dan's cock as his body lurched. Lights shone in the corners of his eyes, bright flashes that didn't seem to have any color at all. He wasn't aware of jerking back, but he must have, since the next thing he knew he was gasping raggedly against the far wall with a sharp pain in the back of his head from where he'd hit it on the railing, with his body still convulsing with orgasm, come shooting in sluggish ropes from his cock and splattering across his sweaty, dripping stomach.

He could barely breathe even with Dan's cock bobbing in the air in front of him; his throat was lined, clogged, with precome, and as he hacked and coughed his throat slurped and distended enough for the mass of viscous fluid on the sides to touch and form a film, blocking his throat entirely until he coughed more, coughing and coughing and spitting out heavy globs, thick streams sluggishly drooling from his nose and mouth the whole time, until he could finally take a breath and not gag, even if his eyes were watering and his face was covered in a wet sheen of sweat. His lips still stung, slobbery with precome and phlegm, bleeding a little where his lips had split. The space between his teeth and lips was overflowing with the mixture even as he spat repeatedly.

He spent so long gasping and coughing and almost retching that it almost came as a surprise when he looked up to see Dan plastered against the other wall, his cock bobbing in front of Amarant's face still. Dan's head was lolled back with his tongue hanging out; his arms were dangling at his sides, and his wormy tail was between his legs, wound around his immense cock. His cockhead was flared out into a wide circle and he was spurting precome like a hose, just moments away from coming. It was pouring in wet, uneven bursts across Amarant's face, and he realized abruptly that it had been doing that since he pulled off, he just hadn't noticed while he was half-unconscious and struggling to breathe.

Amarant was coated and dripping at this point, his entire body covered in a sheen of precome or sweat or spit or all three, even on top of what had been splattered across him while he'd been cocksucking. Gummy pre spurted down across the side of his face, weighing down his dreads and dribbling from his short beard, slopping down onto his chest in heavy gobs and running across his stomach, dripping from his stiff nipples in wet streams. More slipped across his hairy stomach, his body hair dark and clinging wetly to his darkly flushed skin.

His pants were soaked; the green fabric was now uniformly black, wet-dark and dimly glossy as it stretched tightly across his thighs. They were sagging off his ass, fly undone and pushed down as far as he could while on his knees, but the never-ending slopping stream of precome poured down his back and dripped across his thighs until the inside of his pants were filled to overflowing, his ass and legs immersed, and with every movement it squelched and slurped wetly against his legs. It overflowed, pouring from the sagging back of his pants to splatter on the steps and from the front to drool down his thighs.

Dan was spraying with enough force that some of it backsplashed off Amarant's soaking body and splattered across the walls or even back across his own legs, his fur damp with sweat and darkening further as he stroked himself off with his wiggling tail, hosing down Amarant like he was kneeling under a miniature waterfall.

Amarant was still choking on precome, throat raw and aching, spitting globs of frothing precome without end. He lurched forward, sending Dan's cock skidding across his face and over his shoulder, pouring rank precome in great slops down his back. He panted raggedly against the side of Dan's cock as he slid forward, until his lips pressed against Dan's wormy tail, stroking the base of his cock with constant wet cracking sounds. He slurped and lapped at the side of Dan's shaft, breath huffing wetly as his jaw hung open, too sore to close. His face was flushed, ears hot, precome still dripping down along Dan's shaft, splattering across his face, trickling down his scalp.

After a minute he realized, vaguely, that Dan's cock was huge, and if he wanted to suck him off he had to pull back, sliding back up along his bloated shaft until his cock was aimed straight at his face, huge ropes of precome filling his mouth. The heavy, rank and salty, almost meaty flavor of it made his stomach roil as he tried and failed to swallow. He sputtered and coughed a mouthful of precome back across Dan's cock.

Still, he sunk forward again, letting his aching jaw fall open as he tried to squeeze the flared head of his cock past his bleeding, stinging lips and then past his teeth. Precome was already pouring from his mouth, smearing across his teeth and coming from his nose as he coughed around the immense head. His entire body jerked as he bowed forward to take the cock into his throat again, just barely managing to contain the sickening gag and roil in his stomach as Dan's fat cockhead surged past the back of his throat.

The trapped suffocating feeling was familiar by now, almost pleasant. His throat worked painfully around the huge shaft, clenching it as he worked his swallowing muscles and gagged repeatedly, nevertheless sinking deeper, taking it further and further. Dan unwrapped his tail from his cock as Amarant took the rest of it in, the thick, bloated middle of it visibly distending his throat as he hilted Dan's cock. Dan was still spurting precome in huge, sickening bursts, straight into his stomach, and it felt dimly like Dan'd never actually come, just piss out precome forever until Amarant choked to death and threw up at the same time. It was with that thought, though, that Dan grabbed at his head with a final, surprisingly loud moan, and dragged Amarant forward until his nose was grinding against the long, matted fur above his crotch, his sheath hot against his lips. Amarant gagged again, the thick gel of precome and phlegm drooling in ropes from his nose, his mouth wide open and clogged with cock as Dan started fucking his throat again, dragging him back and forth by his dreadlocks, his face slapping wetly against his stomach, Amarant unable to muster the effort to swallow with his bruised throat, gagging and choking constantly.

Dan finally _came_ with a long, loud exhale, his head thrown back and his mouth wide open. Dan dragged him forward, hilting his cock down to the absolute base. Amarant's mouth was spread wide open like his jaw was dislocated, teeth and tongue working suddenly not against the slick flesh of his cock but the coarse, matted hair of his sheath as it pushed partway into his mouth.

Amarant felt like a sword-swallower with Dan's cock spearing him through. Every huge, bloated inch of it was buried inside him, his throat already bulging outward from the shaft even as it swelled larger, like it was gonna rip him apart. The tip was somewhere in his chest, the pointed tip flared out into a huge disc.

Before Dan came, before the first blast of come pumped into Amarant, he could feel the whole thing _swell_ , getting thicker and thicker until he was sure his throat would just burst open in a bloody mess. Dan came straight down into his stomach, clawed hands buried in his hair and keeping him trapped, suffocating, on his cock again. Dan's come pumped into Amarant and all he could feel was the heavy thickness of it, so much of it spraying into him without end, in bursts he could feel all through his body, from his slobbering, spread lips down to his guts, the mass of come filling him up.

He finally did try to pull back, pull away, pull _off_ , his body trembling and weak with asphyxiation, but Dan kept his hands clamped tight and strong across the back of his head, insensate in his orgasm as his cock pumped his load without end into his body. He gagged weakly, come spurting sluggishly out from his nose and mouth, eyes tearing as he choked and gagged. The thick weight of each huge spurt was palpable until there was just so much, all of it blending together into a constant sick pressure inside him. His heart hammered in his chest, his blood throbbing in his veins a counterpoint to the long, painful pulses of Dan's cock, straining his throat.

His weak jerking struggles grew frantic as he thrashed his arms, unable to simply _grasp_ and _push_ back against Dan. Dan was roaring and grunting in his orgasm, and he probably had been all along, but the sound dimmed and came back in uneven bursts. The colorless darkness and flashes of light in the corners of his eyes even started to fade away to... something else, a lack of sensation at all, until finally Dan released his grip and tugged him back fractionally and Amarant just collapsed.

Amarant slumped back, a movement that couldn't have taken more than a second, but it felt like it took forever. Each successive blast of come fired higher and higher up his throat, more and more spraying out of his mouth and nose as Dan pulled out of his ravaged throat, his shaft coated in heavy, sloppy lines and frothy bubbles of come. It finally popped out of his throat entirely, and even his throat flexing back to its proper shape sent waves of nausea and agony through his body.

Dan shot into Amarant's mouth, bulging out his cheeks and spraying out around his stretched and cracked lips. It was like a waterfall, pouring with heavy glugs over his face and splattering across his chest, heavy wet streamers of sloppy come all across the front of his body.

Dan's cockhead popped out of his mouth, finally, and Amarant reflexively tried to breathe, come burning backwards into his sinuses again and he just choked and coughed on it all, like every internal in his body was caked and scummy with some gross fluid. He gasped in tiny pants between coughs, barely managing to breathe at all as he coughed up a _pile_ of thick, gel-like come, his eyes dimly fixing on how it spread sluggishly and poured out across the steps as the grey, flashing haze across his eyes started to fade. He was drooling freely, most of it not spit at all but just more of Dan's come or precome, thinned slightly by spit.

His throat was still full of it, enough that his breath rattled wetly when he finally caught a small hint of air. Every passage inside him was lined with it, and the wet, thick, coated feeling of it trickling down the back of his throat made him gag repeatedly, still choking for air as his eyes teared up and his nose ran. He could finally _really_ gag, wet choking heaves as his entire body shook, his stomach churning.

His stomach jerked with such force it was like someone had grabbed hold of it and _pulled_ , and he opened his mouth to gape only to get another face-full of come, streaking across half his face and slapping against the bridge of his nose. He didn't try to swallow the mouthful that shot into him; he _couldn't_ ; it squelched between his teeth and cheek and drooled out past his lips as he heaved again.

He at least had the presence of mind left to turn his head. He almost toppled down the steps as he turned and bent down, his sides still heaving as he choked and gasped and with a final rattle, puked.

It was hardly even like vomiting; he just relaxed the tension holding it back and his body reacted without any volition; his aching throat spasmed repeatedly until with a wet gush he was throwing up, heaving in slimy ropes as Dan's come poured out of him; thick, viscous ropes of come and mucus splattering down onto the steps, salty and bitter and acidic in his mouth as he gasped once before he heaved again, more of it sputtering out of him.

He sucked in a breath, still wet and rattling deep in his chest, and coughed and spit loosely, dribbling across his lips for a brief moment before he heaved again, throwing up more bitter, acidic mess, thick and salty as he gagged and almost plunged headlong down the steps as he reached up to his mouth and _pulled_ it out, Dan's come so thick that it formed heavy ropes, clogging up his throat even as he gagged and threw it all up. It slithered up his throat as he pulled the clotted ropes from his mouth and that made him heave again, a broad splatter of thick, frothing liquid bursting from his mouth and spraying across his hand, dripping and landing with heavy splats on the steps as he coughed and spat.

Amarant leaned back weakly. His entire body felt light and airy, trembling and weak as he finally managed to breathe without choking or coughing. It hurt, still, and his breath was wet and rattling, but he gasped repeatedly, hyperventilating as he finally got air.

The air in the stairway was sizzling hot, and humid as all hell, and rank like meat. Amarant felt flushed all over still, and his pulse still sounded in his ears, hammering fast, but slowing as he panted with his tongue hanging out. He wiped his slick, tacky hands on his pants, just exchanging one substance for another as they came back dripping with come. Dan was still coming, his cock lancing huge wet bolts of come against the wall where Amarant's head had been until he'd leaned over, and his tail was wrapped all along his balls and shaft, twisting and knotting as he came. For his part, Amarant felt drained and empty. He was coated from head to toe in Dan's slippery fluids, and his dreads and beard were dripping stringy drops. His chest was completely coated in layers of come, solid white all across and drooling down further. He'd come again, he realized, when he was choking, but he hadn't even felt it. The only way he could even tell was that he'd been rock hard before, but now his cock was softening slowly, and there was something like the vagueness of orgasm through his body.

Amarant grasped at Dan's cock, the entire titanic pillar of it coated in frothy, clotted globules, webs of thick come clinging to the underside in arcs as more gushed out, splatting wet and hot against his arms as he stroked Dan off, his fingers squelching through the thick, goopy fluids on his shaft. Dan's scrawny little arms were trembling as he clutched the railing with a death-grip, and he was actually wavering on his feet as his cock kept pumping, the stream of come finally starting to let up and let out bursts of come that sprayed across Amarant's shoulders instead of solid bolts that hit the wall.

Dan's legs gave up on him finally, when his cock was just burbling out a sluggish flow of come that slid down the underside of his cock and across his huge, bloated balls to drip down from there. He toppled over, like a felled tree, and knocked his arms against the steps leading up, until he came to rest practically lying across the steps up, his cock dripping little strings of come across a higher step. His eyes swam back into focus and he slowly unwound his tail from around his cock, staring at Amarant staring back at him.

Amarant still felt a little swimmingly drunk, even after it all, so he just shook his head and grabbed at his shirt, then staggered down the steps, leaving Dan panting there in the dark. The steps did more than creak under his feet, they audibly slopped and splattered like they'd been outdoors during a rain, and the only thing that belied that was the viscous streamers hanging down from each step and hooking on the soles of his boots. Each step sent the heavy, slogging mass of Dan's load dribbling down his legs, along the soaking fabric on the inside of his pants. He didn't even both to put his shirt or belt back on, just tugged the laces of his pants tight enough so they didn't fall entirely off his body, less of a challenge now, since his pants were stuck to his skin, plastered on from the mess caking the inside.

There was a broad puddle at the base of the steps, and his cock twitched at the rank smell suffusing the hallway. The back room was entirely deserted, and the few people left in the bar were huddled on the other side of the main room, well away from him and the door. One of them men glanced up at his entrance and immediately looked away, and Amarant snarled and bared his teeth, well aware he was still dripping come. If anyone said anything about it, he'd kill 'em. It would make a nice coda to the evening.

But no one did, so he just stepped over to the door, feet squelching inside his shoes, and stepped out. Anticlimactic.

He wasn't even sure how he got home; he had goosebumps all across his bare chest and arms, and he was cool and tacky to the touch. He felt a hot, painful trickle in the back of his throat constantly and he'd kept spitting, each time expecting gobs of blood but only hacking up something that was probably even more of Dan's come, thick and white and veined with phlegm. His lips might still be bleeding; every time he licked them, unthinking, he felt the split skin, stinging and painful, but not really a _bad_ pain.

He lurched into his place and slammed the door behind him, his legs almost giving out as he slumped back and slowly slid down the wall. The clotting fluid all across his back was still liquid enough to smear across the door as he sunk down, and it was without any coherent thought that he stumbled to the bathroom.

He dropped his shirt, and it hit the floor with a dull, heavy thump. He kicked off his boots with a wet squelch, and managed to wrestle his soaking pants off, pulling them inside out as they clung to his legs. He felt warmer afterwards; his bare skin exposed to the air inside, instead of being pressed against wet, wind-chilled fabric.

He collapsed into the bath, an empty tin tub far too short and narrow for his body. His limbs hung over the edge at the elbow and the knee, and his wet, pruning toes pressed against the far wall of the room. He rubbed his hands against his thighs and belly, warming himself up even through he was still slippery, his legs still completely wet with come. As if on its own volition, he raised one hand to grind against his pecs, rubbing the heel of his palm against his stiff nipples. He ground his other hand against his pubes, matted to his body with Dan's stringy load, and then down further to tug at his cock. He was half-hard; he'd been half-hard for a long time, and just touching his cock was enough to stiffen it up, until it was hot in his hand and the head was slick with fresh precome.

It was still soon enough after he didn't think about what had happened; his body remembered it all. It was like reliving it all over again, almost, the flushed dizzy heat consuming his entire body until he came with a sudden peak. His come splattered across his belly with a surprisingly loud splatter, slapping against his still-wet skin as he kept pumping, hips arching up and down and thumping loudly against the bottom of the tub. He kept stroking lazily until his cock ached, his come squelching through his fingers as he toyed with his softening cock, pinching and pulling at his thick foreskin.

He huffed, his breath still sounding wet and heavy, and kept playing with himself, his hands skimming across his inner thigh and toying with his balls, reaching back to slide his fingers between the slick, wet cleft of his ass. He splayed back in the tub, idly tugging at his cock until it got hard again, flush and hot in his hand, against the cool, dim room. He stroked himself slowly, rolling his foreskin back and forth over the head of his cock, tugging at its heavy folds. He slid his left hand across his skin, slick and tacky and sensitive all over, goosebumps pricking up as Dan's come dried across his body.

His breath was coming deep and slow, but he rolled his head back and opened his mouth despite the ache in his jaws, thinking back to choking and sputtering on Dan's cock. He swallowed, painfully, and let his throat close on the air, not anything at all like choking even though it felt that same, a little.

His cock leaked out a wet stream of precome, and he could feel his orgasm well up again, already, but he slowed his movements and lifted his hand away from his cock, stroking across his thighs and the crusted, matted hair on his belly until the pleasure ran to a low ebb.

He breathed again, slowly exhaling, and it sounded loud and hoarse. His cock was red and flushed, and he could feel a hot flush starting in his ears, slowly spreading across his cheeks.His body felt hot to the touch; his cock was almost chilled by his cooler hand as he started stroking again, a slow tug at his cock until he was about to come, when he stopped entirely and let his cock twitch in the air, so close to coming it took what felt like a full minute before it ebbed enough for him to touch himself again, just feeling across his coarse, tacky chest. His fingers caught on the drying patches of come, and his cock jerked, slowly leaking drops of precome. He froze in place for a moment, before dragging his fingertips across the heavy swell of his pecs, reaching for one stiff, pebbled nipple.

His light touches gave way to heavy, forceful pinches, enough to redden his skin, and then he reach down to his cock again, grinding his hands against his skin the entire way down, until he grabbed at his cock with both hands, both of them together just a little longer than his entire cock. He stroked himself once, twice, before he hung his head back and let his throat close again, his cock jerking in his hands as his low groan cut off midway through. It was nothing like getting his air cut off at all, no absolute barrier forcing him to save his breath, but the strangled, choking sound he made when he tried to inhale was enough for his cock to lurch in his hands; a thick, gel-like string of precome shot out, sticking in a solid, viscous pile to his right hand, at the junction of his thumb.

Almost idly he raised his hand up off his cock, leaving his left curled around the base, and tipped his head forward enough so he could press his tongue against the thick, hot blob. It tasted like not much, faintly salty and even more faintly bitter, its texture thick and stringy, heavy in his mouth as he licked it off. His face was hot, like he was blushing hard, and he looked down to see his flush spreading across his shoulders and chest. His neck felt sizzling hot to his cold hand, and the slightest pressure was enough to bring the hoarse, aching pain back to the forefront.

Dan's come was dry and cracking on his skin; flakes of it tore off as Amarant ran his hand across his chest, across his crusted, matted-down chest hair. His cock lurched out another thick blob of precome as he reached down across his stomach, still sticky to the touch in parts, feeling rough and flushed under his hand. He was achingly, dizzyingly hard, but he let his head loll back again, eyes closed, as he stroked his cock. He tugged at the wrinkled folds of his foreskin and traced one fingernail lightly over the thin seam of flesh on the underside of his cock, between his shaft and cockhead. His low groan echoed off the bare walls, and he pushed harder, the waves of absolute pleasure running out from that one little strip of skin suffusing his entire body.

He cracked his eyes open, watching his cock bob and jerk in the air, jutting up rock hard from his crotch with the slightest upward curve. It was shiny, the scarlet head practically glimmering in the low light as his precome slid down the blunt head and past the folds of his foreskin to slick down the rest of his shaft.

He spit into his hand, groaning as he did at the pain of it, and slathered the thick, sticky liquid across his cock, half of it probably more of Dan's jelly-like come. It was slippery as he stroked himself off again, slow enough that he wouldn't come, and when it dried out after a few minutes he did it again, slicking his cock down with spit and jerking off. Finally, finally after what felt like a really long time, not that he had any sense of time left, he felt his cock tense up, a tight tangle of heat in his belly, and this time instead of edging back he kept stroking, panting unevenly as he finally let himself come.

He was staring down at his cock, slick and tacky and hot in his hand, the entire thing flushed red, and his first shot burbled wetly down across his belly and hand, followed immediately by a fierce spasm that shot across the side of his head, from his hairline down to his jaw, and he jerked back in surprise at the sudden contact. He shot again, across his jaw and chin, covered his stiff, crackling beard with more come, and the rest of it shot across his chest and belly, so much more his balls started to ache before he finished.

He released his cock with a wet slurp, his hand coated in come, and let his arms hang out over the edge of the tub, meeting the rim at the elbow. His cock drooled the last of his load down, hot against his belly, and Amarant just lolled his head back again and closed his eyes. Fuck, he was tired.

He fell asleep almost immediately, still splayed out in the old metal tub, come-streaked face resting against the rim of it. Whatever, he thought dimly as he fell deeper into sleep, he'd clean up later. He was fucking _tired_. He'd have to track Dan down again later, probably. Thank him or gut him. Or just blow him again, Amarant thought, mind hazy as he started to fall asleep, already dimly replaying every moment of their encounter. Probably blow him again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a sequel to 'lessons'. or another serial chapter; basically everything i write is a potential serial. whatever.
> 
> stretching the limits of how long a sex scene can be before it collapses in on itself. this is perhaps too much.

Every inch of Treno bristled with bounty hunters, all of them with bounties of their own, and the lot of them chased the rest in a big circle. There was an etiquette to it; all it really took was a good bribe to get the bulk of them off your back, but there were a few that stood out on the bounty board regardless.

His, for one: a not-bad sketch of Amarant's scowling face, with DEAD OR ALIVE beneath it. But there were some others, and some of those others had been seen in town. He'd already known about them: bandit brothers, mostly quartered in Alexandria, fled after their latest robbery. Fled to Treno, as it'd turned out. Their bounty said petty larceny, grand larceny, and crimes against the crown of Alexandria, which was a pretty decent sheet, though not as expansive as Amarant's.

The thing about these two bandit brothers was that no one could even agree what they were: mutant imps, maybe, or some kind of mountain goblin. They looked a lot like Vices, except Vices were lean and willowy, and these two were brutally muscled. They had the talons for it, though: dull-ochre scales up across their hands and feet. Ogres was what they most looked like: green-blue skin, purple-black hair, brilliant yellow eyes, except ogres were shrimpy things, five feet tall if they were lucky, and these two towered over everybody else — Amarant including, surprisingly. He wasn't used to having to look up at people. Gigases, maybe. Halfbreeds, probably.

The point being, it was hard for them to keep a low profile. So when they came into town, he knew fast, which was what lead to him tailing Auver, the older of the two, down a narrow alleyway in the old dockside district. Who knew — or cared — what he was up there for; one alley was good as any other for ambushes as far as Amarant was concerned. Amarant dropped down from the eaves when Auver was halfway through, making sure to land hard on the flagstones, loud enough to be heard.

Auver whirled around, like expected, and when he caught sight of Amarant his lips split in a grin, revealing a mess of sharp teeth. He swaggered forward: "You after the bounty, huh?" He twisted his neck, joints cracking, and then like he hadn't made enough of a point he cracked his knuckles too. It was all a bit too obvious. "You ain't the first one, tonight even." He crooked a finger, gesturing Amarant closer: "So let's see you try."

Amarant snorted. He'd been hoping for a bit of a chase, but cutting right to the meat worked just as well.

Auver wore a mess of rings across his hand: brass knuckles in all but name, forming an interlocking ridge of metal when he clenched his fist. It would hurt to get hit by that, so Amarant didn't. Really, what happened was that Amarant beat the tar out of him, easy. Auver was real big, and fast, but he was dumb as a box of rocks. Amarant had gotten hit _once_ , a glancing blow across his ribs that was hardly even gonna bruise. It was a let-down, was what it was. Auver on the flagstones, squirming uselessly. Huge muscles not much help to him when he was tied up tight.

Maybe his partner in crime was going to be a better fight.

During the fight he'd hooked the chain of his claws around Auver's forearm and then twisted, pinning one arm to his back, and then caught the other in the same swing, tying both arms together behind his back. Auver was struggling, of course, but it was a solid chain. But it was a chain Amarant _liked_ , which was why he'd brought rope too, and bound him up from wrist to elbow.

"Here's how it's gonna go," Amarant said, afterwards, cramming Auver's belt into his mouth and tying it around the back of his head as an impromptu gag; the yelling was getting annoying, and would probably get somebody's attention eventually. "Your bounty's only worth it with your little partner in crime too. So you're just gonna sit pretty here, and I'm gonna go get him, and then I'm gonna drag both your sorry asses down to the bounty office."

Auver bellowed, jaw working like he was trying to bite through the leather — he'd do it eventually, probably; those were some sharp teeth — and yelled out a few words that, even muffed, were clear enough to make out the insult.

Amarant bumped him on the cheek, a condescending little pat. "Don't try too hard to get free, I'd hate to have to kick your ass all up and down the street again."

He was going for a clean catch; that was the whole point of getting them when they were apart, but he was itching for a fight now. A good one. He hoped Yahn — the younger one — was a bit faster on the uptake than his brother; Amarant wanted a brawl.

They'd gone to ground in a shitty flophouse, in the mess of warehouses and alleys that made up lowertown. He'd caught them through a window earlier, then tailed Auver when he'd left. Third floor. Yahn was asleep on the bed, just a big lump with a tassel of off-white sheet stretched over his hips. The window to the room was probably locked, and anyway that'd wake him up, so Amarant clamored over to the balcony adjoining the hallway and went in that way. It wasn't hard to match up the windows to the doors on the inside, and though the door was locked it was the easiest thing to pop it. He opened the door smoothly, so it didn't creak, and stepped inside. It was a plain room, just about what he'd expected from a flophouse like this: one room, exterior wall bare boards, the rest plaster; trunk in one corner, dresser in another, single bed next to it.

And there was Yahn lolling on the bed. Naked, and with only the corner of a stained off-white sheet draped over his brawny thighs, cock an immense-looking bulge hanging between, tenting the fabric to the very edge. And he wasn't as asleep as he'd looked: he was watching as Amarant opened the door. Not warily: he grinned at Amarant and sprawled back, huge hands pillowed behind his head to show off the definition of his chest, cock lurching under the sheet.

"Well look at you," Yahn said, eying him up and down. "You're a damn sight better-looking than the rest of the whores they got around here."

Amarant grinned back, looking forward to knocking a few teeth out of his smile. Not so quick on the uptake after all.

Except— Yahn shifted, lowering one hand to tug the sheet aside, and his cock was even bigger than that lump had made it seem. He was limp, cock propped up over a pair of gargantuan balls, lolling across his thighs nearly to the back of his knee. His cock stirred as Amarant stared, flesh thickening. The skin of his sac contracted and relaxed, balls churning; each one was like a fat melon, so big that it was hard to see them as part of his body and not some kind of thick, fleshy offshoot. Too big to fit in one hand. Amarant's palms tingled at the thought: digging his hands under their immense weight, balls balanced on his palms, supple flesh damp and hot, dimpling from the pressure it would take to lift them. Feeling the twitch and stretch as Yahn's cock stiffened and his balls pulled taut. Yahn's shaft was dark, green two shades darker than the rest of his skin, and his hooded foreskin peeked open at the tip, showing a dot of his cockhead, ruddy brown. Not nearly as long as Dan's; more proportional to his body than the club on Dan's scrawny frame, but soft it was nearly as thick as Dan had been hard.

And fuck, it'd been a while. He'd had thoughts of tracking Dan down again, doing something rougher — more like, getting something rougher done to him. After that night, there'd been an itch in him he needed to get scratched — but Dan had up and fled town, gone out to Burmecia or Cleyra or who knew, and that left Amarant jerking himself practically raw thinking about choking on his cock, nothing else. No other fantasies _and_ no other sex.

The way Amarant figured, he had plenty of time to let this idiot fuck him and then tie him up before Auver managed to get free. Fucking was just as good as a fight, maybe better if whoever he was fucking was rough enough.

He sauntered over, tugging his belt open as he went, knees hitting the floor along with the clunk of his buckle. Yahn's thigh was hot under his hand, cock too fat to fit in one hand. The flesh was rubbery, thick, heavy in his hand: Yahn's heartbeat pulsed through it, throbbing, swelling even thicker with each beat. Yahn swung his legs over the side, inching closer, letting Amarant settle right between them.

He'd seen plenty of dicks in his time, hard and soft, but he'd never really spared that much thought to 'em. Never sat up close like this and let one thicken in his hand. Yahn's cock hung down heavy, flesh soft and sweat-damp, spongy, flexible in his hands. Amarant dropped his head, sucking the foreskin-sheathed tip into his mouth, groaning at the salt-skin taste. _This_ was what he'd been itching for, a fat cock in his mouth, heartbeat on his tongue.

Yahn didn't moan; he let out a low sigh, eager, and his hands came down on Amarant's shoulders: "You get right to work, huh," he said, thick fingers stroking the side of his head, tracing the line of his skull back behind his ears, hidden under his dreads, slowly cupping his head as Amarant lapped across his cockhead, easing him forward. The scales of his hand were hardly different from his skin: thick, waxy, slightly harder than the flesh of his thigh. Yahn cupped his head, tips of his claws a thick wedge against the back of his skull.

Amarant wanted to bat his hand away and tell him to shut the fuck up, but he also didn't want to blow his cover, such that it was. Maybe tell him to yank him down and shove the entire thing in his mouth, hard. He opened wider instead, rubbery cockhead stretching his jaw as it thickened, and tried sucking more of the shaft into his mouth. Yahn's cock was half-hard, flexible, and it bent easily when it hit the back of his mouth. Amarant took a final breath, ready for more; his cock was hard in his pants, but he had no time for that with both hands wrapped over Yahn's thighs, fingers digging into his hips. He swallowed, cockhead sinking into his throat, a fat stopper blocking his breath.

Yahn groaned, fingers on the back of his head, pulling him forward — he plunged the rest of his cock down Amarant's throat, until he was pressed against Yahn's crotch, nose flattened against the muscled arch of his pelvis, buried in his pubes. His nostrils flared, his instinctive attempt at breath a sharp kick in his chest, suction dragging against Yahn's cock, tongue digging against the underside.

Amarant swallowed, over and over; it was that or gag on the thickening length. Each squeeze found it less rubbery, harder, a solid plug lodged in him. Yahn's heartbeat thudded in his throat, cock swelling and stretching, spongy flesh filling out sheathed deep down Amarant's throat. Amarant groaned, rumbling even as his vision started to grey, flashing sparks in the corners of his eyes. Yahn held him there for a long moment, cradling hands tugging him minutely back and forth, drool spilling from his mouth down Yahn's balls, the spasms of his throat becoming stronger and stronger, chest heaving as his throat rebelled, gurgling as he coughed up thick phlegm around Yahn's cock, splattering across his thighs, eyes watering, nose running.

Yahn let him up, Amarant still heaving as his throat disgorged his cock, a mess of spit and pre erupting from his mouth and spilling down Yahn's cock, forming a runny mess. The cockhead alone filled his mouth, too big to slip past his teeth: he cradled the head with his tongue for a fraction of a second, puffs of breath spraying spittle down the shaft, before his lips bowed around the ridge of his cockhead and he spit it out, tongue and lips shoving as the fat cockhead lurched from his mouth with a hollow sucking noise, another slurry of fluid gushing over his lips and drenching their skin.

Amarant slurped, coughing wetly, thick cords of spit hanging between them, throat clogged, staring down at the warped floorboards.

"Good," Yahn said, hand still on Amarant's dreads, tugging his head forward so he could slap his cock across his face, wet heat across his forehead, dribbling into his hair. "Now get your pretty mouth back on it."

Amarant coughed again, spat on the floor, dragged in a rasping breath and swung his head back up, face-to-face with Yahn's erect cock. It was huge: not quite as long as Dan's, but so much fatter; easily fist-sized. His cockhead was enormous, flared rim a smoothly-curving band of gristly flesh jutting two fingerwidths out from his shaft, and the shaft itself was gnarled just beneath the tip, a second bulge of flesh there, all striated and lumpy. A single immense vein ran up the side, shuddering with Yahn's pulse: a fan of lesser veins rose to the surface with every beat, all branching off from the thick squiggle.

His foreskin had only drawn back halfway, too tight to fit over the ridge of his cockhead, and his enormous cockslit spanned the entire space of the revealed tip. The flesh around the tip was rumpled and raised, green-brown flushed almost purple, and it pulsed, lips spreading into a fat oval as a thick bead of pre poured out, wobbling, and rolled down, catching on the rim of his foreskin as a bottom-heavy orb, big as a marble, off-white threads stirring in the center.

Amarant sunk forward, mouth open, tongue out, and swiped up the bead of precome. A shock of salt-thick taste on his tongue, lips pressed against the rim of Yahn's foreskin, flesh thick and soft sheathing the iron-hard core. Pressed against it, it was hard to believe he'd just had it in his mouth — or maybe it'd gotten even bigger since he spat it out. He had to lean to the side, open wide, stretch his lips over the left side, slide the rest in, teeth dragging along the glans as he tried to fit it back into his mouth. It pulsed, throb nearly wrenching his jaw from his socket, and spat a heavier burst of pre in the back of his throat; nothing he could swallow now so he just let it drool out, syrupy lines spilling down his lips and soaking his beard. Yahn groaned this time, tugging on his dreads, and rammed his cockhead against the back of Amarant's throat. The spongy flesh flattened, rutting against the back of his throat, and Amarant's entire body jerked in a sickening gag that left him drooling freely. Amarant swallowed on nothing, mouth open wide, and then tried it again, bearing down on the enormous cockhead as Yahn ground forward, jaw clicking as the pulsing head throbbed right against the joint. There was a pop, a sting of pain, and then the cockhead was in his throat, scraping downwards.

It wasn't the first time he'd had his jaw dislocated, but it was the first time he'd had it done by a cock and not somebody's fists. He squinted, urge to work the busted muscle transferred to the rest of his face, and Yahn chuckled at his expression, fingers digging into his scalp as he pulled Amarant's head down and down, shaft throbbing in his throat, scraping its way down as the whole spit-shined length of it slid past his lips.

Amarant's nose bumped against Yahn crotch, pubes scratchy, and Yahn clenched; all Amarant could see was Yahn's chunky abs, flexing. Yahn's cock flexed, lurching up hard and taking Amarant's whole head with it. Amarant gurgled, wet pops bubbling up from his throat, a frothy mess of pre spilling over his lips. Yahn tipped his head back and started thrusting: drawing Amarant's head back, half his shaft pulling out, cockhead rising up in his throat, spit spilling freely down his shaft, and then pulled him back down, face meeting the muscled arch of his crotch with a _smack_ , fluid splattering everywhere. Yahn's cockhead twitched, the swell feeling like it was gonna rip through Amarant's throat, pre spattering across his internal flesh in a wet pulse, slowly dribbling down into his stomach.

Amarant sunk down to the base, throat milking the shaft, and Yahn leaned forward, just resting his cock in Amarant's throat, hands groping down Amarant's back. He shoved under the waist of Amarant's pants, slick fingers scrabbling against his ass, spiking up the hair there. He shoved a two fat fingers down the cleft of his ass, the rest fanning out across his cheek, fingertips grinding against his hole, claws scraping up and down over his flesh. Amarant let out a surprised grunt. He'd never done that before; nobody'd ever touched him there. Yahn's finger was slick, scales waxy and frictionless already, and now slathered in spit and pre, matting the hair as he reached down. But Amarant's asshole was hairless, the touch nothing but skin on skin, and — sensitive. Every furrow of his wrinkled asshole let itself be known, Yahn's fingertip a fat pad stroking over his hole. Yahn bore down, flesh dimpling, wet slide replaced with a heavier grind, flesh shifting up and down. Amarant groaned, facedown in Yahn's crotch, fat shaft throbbing in his throat, turning the sound into a dull rumble, and then gagged again, throat spasming, thick spit gushing out around his bruised lips, soaking down to Yahn's balls.

Yahn chuckled and sat back, finger pulling away with a final tap against his hole, and then he shoved Amarant back, going through the same motions, cockhead ripping out of his throat with a lurch, stuck bloating Amarant's cheeks for a second or two before he spat it out, the head swaying to the side and coming back to rest across his cheek, splurting pre across the side of his face, down his neck. His mouth was wide open, jawbone just hanging there. Amarant reached up, fingers touching below his temples gingerly, and shoved it back into place. There was another stab of pain, fingers digging in harder, and a soggy-sounding _clunk_ as the joint lined up.

Yahn laughed again: "You're a little hasty, I'm sure as hell not done with your mouth; I'm just gonna knock that shit outta place again." His fingers groped across Amarant's face, testing the joint. His thumb slipped over Amarant's bruised lips, slid across the line of his teeth. "Strip," he said.

So Amarant did, shirtfront already soaked dark, cock tented in his pants. He made sure to do it so Yahn didn't see all his fucking _knives_ either; wouldn't do for him to get spooked. He'd never gotten fucked before, but, hell, the people who did it probably liked it; probably there was something to it. If somebody'd told him he'd love choking on cock a month ago he probably woulda gutted them just to make a point, but here and now, well, might as well test it, see how it went, and he needed some dumb asshole's cock to do that. Yahn was perfect: big and dumb and hot.

Yahn wasn't watching his clothes, anyway; he was watching his skin, leering at Amarant's hairy chest, licking his lips when Amarant shoved his pants down to the knee and kicked them off, stripped naked, cock hanging heavy and fat between his thighs, red hair a brilliant contrast against his pale skin — though looking down he was flushed purplish all across his chest; the heat in his neck and face was probably visible, splotchy purple across his face.

Yahn reached out and reeled him in, hand possessively as it groped across Amarant's face, fingers scraping over his beard stubble, sending the trapped ooze spilling down his face. He shoved two fingers in Amarant's mouth, thumb splayed across his lip, and leaned forward again: off-hand spreading the fat globes of his ass, shoving his fingers against his asshole, rubbing up and down. "You got a nice ass," he growled in Amarant's ear, puffing breath burning. "I'm gonna fuck you wide open." His cock jumped, slapping against Amarant's chest, and he growled. "After I blow a load or two down your throat. We been on the run for a while; this is the first time we've got to settle down. Haven't gotten off good for weeks."

His fingers were salty with sweat, active in a way his cock hadn't been, groping across Amarant's teeth, digging into his tongue, his other fingers slotted against his jaw, keeping Amarant's mouth open and drooling. He slid his fingers across Amarant's stubbled cheek and shoved the rest into his mouth, four fat fingers shoving against the back of his throat, thumb splayed up his face, rubbing greasy circles just under his eye. Yahn twisted, knuckles digging hard against the roof of his mouth, putting more and more pressure on his jaw until — there was a _crunch_ against the inside of his ear, a rubbery _pop_ lower, and his jaw unhinged again with a sting of pain. Amarant suppressed the reflexive clench that would've made it really hurt; just let his jaw sag down, drooling all down Yahn's hand, glowering up at him, eyes watering hard, tears dripping down his cheeks to mix with the mess smeared all across his face already.

"Neat trick," he said. His thumb stroked Amarant's bruised lower lip, testing the stretch of his dislocated jaw. The web of his thumb was pressed tight against Amarant's lip, coated in sludge, and Yahn slid up, twisted, the claw of his thumbnail pushing past Amarant's lips, a hot point of pressure against the back of his throat. His fingers groped at his tonsils, shoving into his throat. Amarant gagged, coughing, a mess of spit and pre stuck in his throat pouring down Yahn's wrist. His cock had been at least smooth; his hand was bony, lumpy, articulated, scales not quite rough; it let him breathe around it. His lips slurped over the knob of his wrist, teeth grazing the back of his hand, and Yahn crooked his hand, knuckles back and back, fingers shoved down his throat, palpitating the spasming muscles, Amarant coughing and gagging, drool spilling freely from his lips. "I hope you can take as much up your ass." He pushed harder, trying to fit his fingers down Amarant's throat, and it seemed like it surprised them both when he did.

Amarant gagged again, a frothy spill of sludge dribbling down his wrist, and then swallowed, muscles of his throat banding like iron around Yahn's fingers. He breathed, rasping and bubbling, as Yahn shoved deeper, the crest of his knuckles easily fitting past his teeth, jaw sagging, and ground against his palate, fingers tugging at his Adam's apple from the underside. He shoved forward more, Amarant gagging at the hot prods of his fingers squirming down his throat, tugging and tearing at his flesh: bruised lips spread around his wrist, tongue pressed against Yahn's palm, the entire heft of his huge hand shoved into his mouth, down his throat.

Amarant gagged, a frothy mess of pre and silky phlegm, burbling over Yahn's wrist, and he pulled back, having to do it slow — knuckles scraping against his teeth on the withdraw, another twinge of pain right against the hinge of his jaw — and left Amarant kneeling there, face shiny with sweat and spit, gasping for breath, lines of spittle drooling from his slack mouth, lips bruised a bloody dark red. Yahn's hand was coated in spit and phlem, thick strings of it, and he wiped his fingers on Amarant's beard, thumb digging against his chin.

Amarant coughed weakly, reaching up with one hand to shove his jaw back into place, stretching it, yawning and biting, before he spat to the side. "You gonna fuck me or just play parlor tricks with my mouth?" His voice was thick; he spit again, sludgy come still stuck in his throat.

"Pushy."

"I got a schedule." True enough.

"Lemme blow on your face first; I gotta take the edge off or I'll pop the second I get into your pretty little ass." Yahn looked down at him, a hungry grin on his face, thumb digging into his lower lip. "You should'nt've set your jaw; I'm gonna knock it right outta place. Again. Just open wide; gimmie a nice fat hole to fuck."

Yahn reached forward and grabbed Amarant's head like a ball: fingertips digging in behind his ears, palms pressed flat over his ears, so all he could hear was the rushing sound of his own heartbeat. He jerked Amarant down, cockhead slapping against his face — filthy length smearing across his face as Yahn rutted against him, once, twice, before lining it up, fat cockhead digging into Amarant's lips, gushing salty pre across his tongue.

If what they'd done before could be called _easing it in_ , Yahn didn't spare any thought to it this time: he knew what Amarant could do and he wanted it fast. His fingers dug in, jerking Amarant forward, one hand coming down to all-but yank his jaw right out of place, cock twitching in Amarant's mouth from his reflexive grunt of pain. He pulled Amarant down, plunging his cock into his throat with a sick gurgle, thickness stretching his throat, Yahn's heartbeat throbbing against his Adam's apple. All of it, to the root: shaft pulsing in his throat, stretched lips pressed against the base of his shaft, pubes scratchy against his mouth.

Yahn groaned, hips jerking forward, and started sawing back and forth, pulling Amarant down to the base of his crotch, grinding his lips against his pubes, before jerking back, pulling half his shaft out glistening with spit and pre, snapping his hips forward to sink it back down his throat, immense cockhead snapping through the convulsing muscles in his throat, bands of pressure pummeled wide open. His cock twitched again, a gush of pre flooding Amarant's throat and mostly getting coughed up; he gagged, spraying the watery mess across Yahn's sloppy cock, and that just made Yahn groan louder, cock twitching on the verge of orgasm.

Yahn grunted, abs clenched, balls drawing up tight, trying to stay on the edge for as long as he could: his cock kept drooling come, not in pulses, just a constant pour like he was pissing it out, a hot stream of thick slime coating Amarant's throat in a sticky heat, salty when he pulled back enough for some of it to smear across the back of his tongue.

Yahn jerked back, breathing hard, and shoved Amarant back until only the head was in his throat, cockhead throbbing, each pulse a wet pop in his jaw, echoing through his inner ear. His cock pulled out with an explosion of stringy slime, slurping up from its resting place against Amarant's tonsils. Thick cords of slime were tugged up from his throat, webbing across his tongue and teeth as Yahn's cock erupted from his mouth, a wet spray of spit splattering all across Yahn's crotch, until the whole thing was out in the open, twitching and jerking as thick ooze bubbled up from his gaping cockslit, grey-yellow, coming out in a continual flow. Each twitch expelled a messy spurt, slimy come spurting and spraying and folding over itself, forming a messy cluster of bubbles that sluggishly drooled down the underside of his cock.

Amarant leaned in, going to lap it up, but Yahn caught his head, shoved it down so he couldn't touch tongue to cockhead and tip him over the edge. He stayed there like that, just drenching his hair, come slowly soaking down to his scalp, oozing through his roots to pour down his face in a glassy flood. Yahn wrapped his fingers around the base, one at a time: pressing like he was playing the flute, not even stroking, just tapping his fingers against the underside, just enough stimulation to keep him at the very precipice.

It wasn't gonna last. Yahn grunted, head thrown back, and shuddered with his entire body, abs contracting into huge blocks, hand squeezing his cock to delay the inevitable. He grabbed Amarant by the hair and wrenched his head back, lining him up for the shot: cockhead an inch from his face. Amarant's rasping breath billowed over his cockhead, erratic wheezes enough to send the droplets dripping down gusting backwards, spattering like raindrops over Yahn's hand. He squeezed the base of his cock in rhythm, each time his veins popping to the surface, gnarled and thick.

He grunted, snarling and slavering that built into a long groan. His cock lurched, jerking off to the side, and he started stroking fast, panting as he finally shot off. His cock lurched again, and the impact was shocking hot and surprisingly liquid, heat splattering right between Amarant's eyes and splattering in all directions. Thick globs stuck to his skin, salt dribbling across his lips. He jerked back, reflex at the hit, and Yahn grabbed his dreads and yanked him right back into place, cockhead thumping against his cheek as the next blast hit point-blank and sprayed everywhere, droplets from the splash splattering down across his skin a full half-second later.

He kept stroking, tugging Amarant's face further back, upturned face catching each rope of come. Yahn groaned continually, stroking madly, fucking his hand as he finally unleashed, spraying all across Amarant's face.

His cockhead bobbed up and down, slapping against Amarant's mouth — shooting from nose to hairline, spilling down his cheek, soaking into his beard. Yahn's strokes brought him too close; his knuckles bashed into Amarant's already-bruised lower lip with the force of a punch. The blow knocked him back onto his ass, hands falling back to catch his fall even as he groaned, angry throb in his lip doubling. Yahn followed the motion, taking a half-step forward, hand still fisted into Amarant's dreads, crouching over him as he drenched his face. It was like somebody upended a jug over his head: waterfalls of slime poured down his face, glazing his skin, forming thick lines dancing in the air, wetly slapping against Amarant's neck and chest. He sputtered, blowing a spume of spit-thinned sludge in a mess of misty droplets across Yahn's cock, Yahn's hand just as drenched in come as Amarant's face: ochre scales gone a sickly grey, thick rivers of come winding between his knuckles.

Yahn's entire body convulsed, muscle spasm that painted his next shot in a messy zigzag all across Amarant's face. He growled and spoke: "Open up."

Amarant did, and Yahn's cockhead slammed into place against his lower lip with a smack, gaping cockslit an open mouth, swollen lips spread. His cock shuddered, muscle spasms in Yahn's gut sending his cock lurching up, slamming against Amarant's teeth, and then he shot off again. Just one pulse, pouring hot and thick behind his teeth, crackling as it hit the back of his mouth and poured over itself, slopping over his lips before he could even begin to swallow. His cock throbbed again, swelling against his tongue, and the lancing blast slapped his tonsils, pouring into the thick pool of come spilling from his mouth. Yahn shot again, and again, gripping the base of his dick and stroking the whole while, flooding Amarant's gaping mouth with his thick, rancid-tasting come.

Yahn tugged back, cockhead pulling away from Amarant's tongue, still linked by a messy cord. Thick cords all joined together, stretching out as he drew back into thick planes of slime, with bubbly froth collecting at the corners. He slapped his cock down on Amarant's face, the mess splattering across his cheeks, drooling down the side of his face. Yahn rutted his cock back and forth, smearing his load all over, gooey strands slurping and crackling, a thick glaze coating Amarant's face, saturating his beard and drooling down his neck. Fresh come oozed into his hair, stuck in thick globs, or hit him in the forehead, soaking him every which way.

Yahn sat back, cock almost stuck to Amarant's face, peeling away with a wet crackle. The flesh was so hot he could feel it from an inch away, like sunlight beating down on him. Yahn sprawled back onto the bed, catching his breath, his cock still ramrod hard standing straight up in the air: still twitching out the last dribble of his load, shaft slathered in spit and come, frothy mess drooling down the shaft and catching in his pubes, on his furrowed balls. "Yeah, that's better, fuck," he groaned. "Get up here; gimmie your ass."

Amarant blinked, come stuck to his lashes, right eye plastered shut. He wiped the worst of it off, licked his hand: thick, dimly salty, an aftertaste like rancid meat. He was soaked in come, droplets soaking through his thick dreads, a steady drip across his scalp as liquid made its way through his hair, wet streams sluicing down his shoulders, a thick glaze stuck to his face, beard dripping come at the slightest touch. Hot, like it should be steaming. Like instead of cooling Yahn's load was cooking itself down to a thicker tar, thicker ooze dribbling back behind his ears, tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck.

He got up, slid across Yahn's body, skin hot and damp where they touched. Yahn guided him beside him, tugged him up so he was on his elbows and knees, then stood and slid back so he was standing behind him. Yahn's cock was still hard, tapping against Amarant's thigh as Yahn groped down his back, thick fingers digging into the meat of his ass, slimy fingers shoving between his cheeks to rub his hole for a second as Yahn shifted. A second later his cock struck his thigh, Yahn's hand curled around the base, slapping the spit-soaked length against Amarant's ass cheeks, smearing the ooze caking it over Amarant's hairy skin, rubbing it in until his skin shone, hair soaked into whorls and peaks.

Amarant pushed back, grinding his ass against Yahn's dick. "Get on with it." His voice was hoarse, raspy, and he spit onto the sheets, clots of come stuck in his throat.

"You really are impatient, huh. Pushiest damn whore I've ever seen." But Yahn spat on his fingers, groping down Amarant's crack, spreading his meaty cheeks and spitting again on his asshole; hole puckering in response. He shoved his spit-slick fingers against it, harder now, clenching hole spreading under the pressure. It was — strange. Pressure up inside him, Yahn's probing fingers grinding against something, a tingling pleasure spreading in his ass, and Amarant went facedown, ass in the air, face smearing come across the sheets, thick rank scent heavy in his nose.

Yahn's fat claws broke past his hole, slick but still rough shoved inside him — _inside_ him, poking and prying, the same as when he'd shoved his fingers down his throat but a hundred times stranger, something inside him, hard and thick, groping around. Yahn's fingers slid up the wall of his ass, jabbing hard, and —

Amarant's vision whited out; he exhaled in a surprised _whuff_. The tingle burst into a full-body explosion, a ripple of heat bursting through him — lingering under his balls, dripping cockhead, where his nipples were scrubbing against the rough sheets. Yahn cocked his fingers and pulled back, brushing over the spot again, and this time Amarant had some clue what to expect, moaning when the spark of pleasure burst again, cock oozing a bead of pre onto the sheets. He rutted back, chasing Yahn's retreating finger, an aborted moan when he only brushed across the spot before he pulled out all the way. Amarant's hole winking open, clenching on nothing — it felt like Yahn's finger was still inside, ass tingling, the ghost of the pressure still alive inside him.

Amarant moaned sadly on the withdraw, and Yahn spat again, spattering down across his yawning asshole, and then Yahn shoved his fingers right back inside a fraction of a second later, finger-fucking him, thumb rubbing against his wrinkled asshole. Amarant had two fingers sawing into him, thick clawtips ramming against that spot inside him, a spark that pulsed through his entire body. Amarant rutted back, meeting each motion, mind thinking only of lining him up right, shoving back, spearing himself on Yahn's fingers just so, over and over until he was panting, whining hoarse in his throat, eyes rolling back into his skull with each prod. He wasn't aware he was coming until he was, raggedly moaning as he convulsed around Yahn's fingers, cock slapping up against his belly as he came completely hands-free, stringy come splattering across his chest, smearing to mix with the mess already coating his skin.

Fingers groped at his furrowed balls, reaching forward to tug on his cock, coaxing out the last drops of his load. "No wonder you were so impatient to get my cock in you," Yahn said, fingers crooking inside, rubbing over that spot again, and Amarant bellowed, hips jerking — cock sliding through Yahn's loose fist, fingers skewering inside him, harder — and came again instantly, groaning and whimpering as he gushed his load across the sheets, pulse after pulse as Yahn milked him dry, and then reached forward to shove his come-coated fingers into Amarant's mouth. Amarant sucked his own load off of them, saltier than Yahn's, the meaty taste more pronounced, less bitter.

Yahn's fingers pulled from his mouth, line of spit wiped across his face when he planted his hand between Amarant's shoulderblades, shoved him facedown onto the bed. "Gonna fuck you," he said, simply, cock bubbling pre across his hip, a wet stream drooling down the outside of his thigh. Amarant collapsed down, shoulders and head flat on the bed, legs spread. Yahn repositioned him, and Amarant went with it. Hands tugged on his hips; more sharply angled, and spread across his back; pushing down, until he was splayed across the bed, ass in the air, right on display. Yahn stooped down to his knees, cheekbones digging against Amarant's ass cheeks, diving down between his muscled cheeks to tap his tongue against his hole, wet and slick sliding up and down, steady pressure.

Amarant groaned, spikes of heat racing up his spine, spreading with every lap of Yahn's tongue on his hole, steady strokes sliding up and down, tongue spreading his ring, spitting into his ass as he sloppily made out with Amarant's hole, until drool was freely spilling down his taint, dripping from the furrowed skin of his balls, streaking down his inner thighs. Amarant groaned, low, the sensation this time building slow: he was gonna come just from this, Yahn's fingers digging into his hip, Yahn's tongue on his asshole. He bit the sheets, whining groan muffled as he shot off again, hole convulsing around Yahn's tongue.

Yahn drew back, laughing against his ass, spitting slobber into his spread hole. " _Fuck_ you got a hair trigger. Three times?" He stood, cock slotting between his cheeks unerringly. "Let's see how many times you come on my cock."

His fingers and tongue had been slippery, but his cockhead was impossibly slick, spit plus the constant burble of pre sheathing them in a fluid sheen. It felt like the most natural thing, asshole fluttering open, wanting to yield even against Yahn's fist-sized head. Amarant felt himself spread, ring of muscle sliding open against the steady pressure of his cockhead, little shocky spurts of pleasure at the heft and drag as it sunk into him, still dazed after his last orgasm, cock still oozing droplets of come.

His cockhead hit that spot inside him, a hundred times better than just his finger, and Amarant went boneless, groaning deep, his cock twitching and twitching, slapping against his belly, slowly starting to ooze come in a continual trickle as Yahn bore into him. The tip spurted, cockhead flaring minutely, an extra iota of pressure, and wet heat slopped up inside him, outlining the walls of his ass. Pre slowly painted his ass walls until they dripped, collecting against Yahn's cockhead and starting to ooze out around his stretched hole, lubing the way for the rest of his cockhead: the fat rim nestled just below his ring, juddering forward and back as Yahn worked him open.

"Fuck, you're tight," he said, huge hands gripping Amarant's hips, digging hard enough he was gonna bruise.

"C'mon," Amarant groaned, pushing back — stretch on the edge of painful, every beat of Yahn's heart spreading him extra — "Fuck me hard."

"Demanding little whore aren't you?" Yahn chuckled, easing deeper, gristly rim of his cockhead digging against Amarant's spread ring. "Three times not enough? Don't worry, I'll fuck you good, you little slut."

Which, unfortunately, was when the door slammed open. Yahn looked over, hands digging harder into Amarant's ass. "Oh, hey," he said, very laconic about it.

It was Auver in the doorway. Unfortunately. Amarant was gonna have to get some better rope next time. Maybe chains. He looked a mess: shirt rags, bleeding rope burns across his wrist and forearms. The spot where Amarant'd hit him in the chest was purpling up real nicely, a huge bruise blooming nearly from shoulder to neck. Auver took in the scene, seeing Amarant just as some body spread across the bed. He stepped in, breathing hard: "No time. Somebody's after us; we're lucky I got here fast enough. We gotta get out of town now; no time for fucking."

"You sure?" Yahn said. "Fuck, and this one was real good." His cock twitched, a fresh spatter of pre hitting the walls of Amarant's ass.

Auver came closer, and Amarant saw the moment when recognition flashed in his eyes. It wasn't subtle. He came to a dead stop; his jaw dropped. Amarant wasn't looking forward to the inevitable fight. Neither of them were a threat — Yahn was about two seconds from being unconscious or worse if Amarant really felt like reaching back to get his hands on his neck, and, well, he'd already beaten Auver once. But he wanted to get _fucked_.

"Who's this?" Auver said, slowly, still off-guard. Like he was holding out hope for maybe Yahn just found an exact duplicate, and that Amarant'd gotten lost on the way there. Neither of them were that bright.

"Just some whore," Yahn said.

Auver stared down at him, and Amarant glared right back. Yahn, oblivious to the tension, jerked forward a fraction of an inch, cockhead ramming his prostate hard. Amarant groaned, eyelids fluttering, eyes rolling back, asshole spasming as it tried to clamp down, stretching wider and wider as Yahn eased his cockhead into him, the flare a nearly-painful ridge of gristle finally grinding its way through his ring. Amarant huffed, panting, entire body jerking again when Yahn made it all the way through, cockhead solidly sunk inside him, hole clamped around his gnarled shaft.

"You're just gonna watch?" Yahn said, hand fanning out across Amarant's lower back, palm grinding against his sweaty skin. "He sucks dick real good."

"Yeah, c'mon, let me suck your dick," Amarant said, sneering up at him.

There was a pause. "You better not fucking bite," Auver said, fishing his cock out of his pants: basically the same as Yahn's: oversized, thickening fast.

"He's not gonna bite; he's good at it. Took my cock all the way down."

"Is that so?" Auver ran a finger across Amarant's cheek, smearing Yahn's load. "My little brother really made a mess, huh?"

"You gonna talk about it or you gonna fuck me?"

Yahn laughed. "Man, he got a mouth on him, right? He's fucking begging for it; it's great."

"Sure is." Auver's thumb pressed against Amarant's lower lip, opening his mouth. Amarant lapped at his finger, tasting sweat and blood. Auver tipped his head up, spat down, saliva splattering across his face, catching across his bruised lips. "I think we got a little time, then."

Yahn shifted, pushing deeper, huge knob of a cockhead sliding further inside, and Amarant groaned, Auver's cockhead prodding against his lower lip halfway through, muffling the sound. "He's such a slut, it's great," Yahn said, fingers digging into Amarant's fat ass to punctuate, dragging him back, sinking his cock deeper. "Got him to come three times just playing with his ass."

Auver snorted, a short little amused huff, but his gaze was locked unerringly on Amarant's face, watching. Auver slapped his cock across his face, through the mess Yahn had made, three solid slaps like what he really wanted to do was smack him with his hand, full-on.

But he didn't: he wrapped his hand around the tip, squeezing it like some swollen fruit, knuckles scraping against Amarant's beard they were so close. Little muscle contractions in his stomach sent it twitching, jerking against Auver's grip, rivulets of pre flowing over his fingers, spilling across Amarant's face and down to the floor in equal measure. He spread his fingers, smearing them across Amarant's face, shoving his cockhead down with his palm so it pressed right against Amarant's open mouth.

"Suck it," he said, and stared the whole time as Amarant spread his lips, pursed around the flange of his cockhead. Like he really was gonna bite. Amarant stared back as he took more of it in, sinking down the shaft, drooling to get it slick. The tip hit the back of his mouth and he swallowed, head not-quite pushing further. Nearly half the shaft in his mouth. He started bobbing, up and down, taking the fat head into his throat with a pop, pulling back to cradle it in his mouth, milking runny strings of pre from the swollen tip, lips tugging back on the huge flare.

"Get him to do the throat thing," Yahn said.

Yahn's cock was twitching hard in his ass, a constant flood of pre, wet and slippery inside him. He jerked forward, immense cock sliding over the walls of Amarant's ass until it hit hard muscle. Yahn jerked forward, cock bending a little from its sheer size before it pummeled its way into his guts, huge head ramming against the end of his ass again and digging deeper, punching through some second opening. His ass opened up into — heat, a hot open space deep inside him, broken past the clenching hole that felt like a second asshole. Amarant's guts churned, heat from Yahn's pre spreading through his entire body, pulse after pulse. Yahn's thighs spanked Amarant's ass, meeting with a sharp clap, cock buried to the root inside him. He pulled back and thrust again, the slide shockingly liquid. Pre streamed from his ass on the withdraw, Yahn's shaft smearing it over every surface of his ass; a gush erupted out from inside when Yahn clapped his thighs against Amarant's ass again. He jerked forward, and his cock stirred inside Amarant, up and down, sending his guts lurching.

Auver was still staring at him. He reached forward and grabbed the back of Amarant's head, shoving forward, trying to fit his cock down Amarant's throat — he grinned at the sick gag when he tried harder, a wet sputter of pre and phlegm spat down his shaft. His cockhead knocked against the back of his throat, too hard and all the wrong angle to make it down. He sufficed for ramming hard against the back of his mouth, Auver grunting as he tried to force Amarant's head down, fucking half his cock back and forth, balls swinging like a pendulum between his thighs. He growled. "Flip him over," Auver said. "I wanna fuck his throat."

Yahn just dug his hand under his hip and bodily flipped him, spinning him like meat on a spit. Yahn's cock slid in his ass, or more like his body slid around the cock, Yahn's shove flipping him over into his back without him pulling out more than an inch. Auver's palm dug into his shoulder, finishing the job, aligning his head neatly between his thighs. His oversized balls just about covered Amarant's entire face, reeking now of sweat and sex; Auver shifted forward, thighs pressing against Amarant's cheeks. His hand wrapped around his shaft, fingers scraping the hollow of Amarant's throat, and he slapped it against his chest, head impacting past his collarbone. Showing him how deep it was gonna be when it was all down his throat. But, well, Amarant had managed bigger; he was grinning when Auver jerked back, cockhead digging against his lips before Amarant opened wide, tongue lapping across the dome of the head before Auver shoved in.

It was a better angle, at least.

Auver grabbed his head like it was a ball, palms scratching across his cheeks, fingers digging behind his ears, and dragged Amarant forward onto his cock, plunging the whole thing down his throat. His heavy sac pressed against his face, slathered with sweat and pre, and when he drew back and thrust his balls cracked across his face like getting punched, starting a rapid tattoo beat. His cock twitched with each smack, straining his neck.

Amarant gurgled, giving up on trying to swallow, just letting a filmy mess of phlegm and pre pour from his mouth, slick and sticky pouring across his face, splattering with each impact of Auver's balls. His throat squelched, sloppy noises bursting out of him as Auver fucked him, torrents of gummy slime clotting his throat and burbling out, clogging his nose and plastering his eyelids shut.

The sound of it faded away: just sensation, the two of them fucking him hard. Auver's thighs strained across his cheeks, supple flesh of his balls churning across his face, cock stirring inside him, trembling and gushing, each spurt of pre _heavy_ , flooding down his throat. Yahn hilted in his ass with a sharp _clap_ , cockhead punching through into his guts, all it felt like the two of them were gonna meet in the middle. Heat billowed around him, like Amarant felt like he should be steaming, thick plumes of sweat and come pouring off him as the wet mess plastered across every inch of bare skin dried to a crust. His heartbeat thrummed in his ears, a steady _wum-wum_ like roaring water. He could feel Auver's groan, rumbling down through his hands and cock, buzzing in his throat.

Yahn's thrusts grew erratic, snorted breath billowing across his stomach and untouched cock. Amarant groaned, throat vibrating around Auver's cock. Yahn's thighs smacked against his ass again and again, the cudgel of his cock ramming up inside him, brutally-thick girth crushing his prostate almost accidentally, each sloppy thrust grinding back and forth. He huffed, fingers digging into Amarant's hips, strong enough it hurt. Then Yahn rammed all the way in, cockhead spearing into his guts, pubes grinding against Amarant's ass, and _roared_.

His bellow almost drowned out the roar of blood in Amarant's ears, washing out everything else. Yahn's cock surged, thickening as it twitched, making the stretch of his ass burn: his spread ring, the broken-wide span of that clenching entrance to his guts, and his guts themselves lurching and straining, wrapped tight around Yahn's brutally-huge cockhead, jerking and thumping inside him. His shots _sloshed_ , sudden shocks of heat inside him, heavy and wet, getting heavier as they filled him up. Pulse after pulse, audibly gurgling, churning and slurping as Yahn's load sprayed into Amarant's guts, pressure building up inside before his muscles spasmed and gave out, come gushing down into his ass, erupting around Yahn's shaft in thick slobbery bursts, taking seconds for each gush to flood out of him.

Yahn groaned, still thrusting, tugging his cock an inch back and forth, just shallowly rutting as he unloaded, fingers digging hard into Amarant's ass, wet slurps getting louder until they were a continuous gurgle of scum pouring out of him. He jerked forward, burying himself to the hilt again, and thick cords of come squirted out, splattering across Amarant's hairy cheeks, running in thick lines down his thighs onto the sodden sheets. Yahn pulled back, a sucking gurgle coming from Amarant's broken ass, the ring of his asshole convulsing without his conscious control, spasming wildly around Yahn's shaft. Come churned inside him, and more spilled out in thick globs, slurping as they poured over the rim of his hole. Yahn kept at it, sawing back and forth as he unloaded, until Amarant's ass was glazed with come, finger-thick cords of come strung between them, squelching together when he hilted only to stretch out into flabby arches when he pulled back, a thick runny mess between them.

It was a bigger load than what he'd blown across Amarant's face, and that had seemed to defy belief. He just kept coming, each twitch of his cock spraying his guts with another blast of come, lewd slurps as he fucked more and more into him, all gurgling out in a thick mess, overflowing his ass and pouring down his thighs, gluing his hair to his skin. His fingers tugged on Amarant's hips, pulling him back, each thrust slow and lazy, mashing Amarant's fat ass against his crotch, balls pressing against the glazed surface of his cheeks, an extra spurt each time he bottomed out.

Eventually he at least pulled out, shoving Amarant forward — face buried in Auver's crotch, cock a lead pipe shoved down his throat — until only the tip of his cock was lodged inside. Even his gaping, abused hole was drawn tight around the fat head: it caught for a second, distending his whole ass before the seal broke and Amarant's hole released the swollen tip, raw red insides gaping as Yahn's cockhead tore out of him with a messy eruption of come. The continual ooze of come turned into a pouring waterfall without his cock stopping the flow, another huge slug of come oozing out of him each time his hole clenched, sensation ghosting inside him like Yahn was still thrusting.

Amarant groaned, hole pulsing. It was a living thing attached to his ass, squeezing and contracting using muscles he didn't know he had, over and over, rising and falling between his cheeks, a wet silky glide of skin against skin. Each contraction forced out a thick squirt of come, gushing instead of pouring, sick wet sounds coming from his ass as Yahn's load spilled out, mixing with the fresh squirts Yahn was spurting over his ass. There was a crackling kind of slurp behind him, Yahn stroking himself off, finishing the last of his load sprayed all up and down Amarant's stomach, painting his hard cock in thick, swampy lines of come, pouring down over his balls, between his thighs, to mix with the mess oozing from his ass.

Auver pulled out just to slap Amarant's face with his cock, the spit-slathered thing oozing heavily, cords of slime tugging all across his face as he ground it down. "Stop whimpering and get back to work."

Yahn finally stopped coming, or at least subsided to a dribble that was just pouring between his legs instead of spurting across his ass. "Give his ass a try," he said, smacking Amarant's ass for emphasis, a wet spray of come splashing out from the impact. Amarant was practically slathered head to toe: spit, come, whatever; every inch of skin shone dully, the hair across his chest and legs glued down in dark whorls.

"Fuck, check this out—" Yahn said, shoving two fingers inside him up to the knuckle. He _pulled_ — two fingers on different hands, hole distending into a wide slash, come gurgling out of him and pouring down the backs of Yahn's hands. He slipped in more fingers, index and middle of both hands, hooked around the hugely swollen flesh of his asshole, muscle a thick, rubbery ring he was slowly stretching wider and wider. Amarant groaned, shoving his ass back at Yahn, hips jerking up and down, and Yahn laughed, slid his fingers through the slick mess, fingers jabbing hard against his prostate as he kept yanking his hole wider and wider, come just pouring out of him.

Auver shuffled around the bed to watch. "Get your hands out of there, let me," he said, and Amarant whined when Yahn's hands pulled away. His wrecked hole didn't even close, bruised flesh only slowly smearing back into place, hole just plain gaping. There was a shift in the air, cool air stinging against the inner flesh of his ass, and Auver settled behind him, hands rough as he stroked up Amarant's thighs, through the sloppy mess pouring out of him, knuckles grinding up and down against his hole.

Auver's knuckles dug against his skin, rubbery flesh dimpling easily, and then he cocked his fist and rammed forward, sinking his fingers — and hand and wrist — into Amarant in a single brutal punch. Amarant bellowed like a bull being slaughtered, back arching — Auver's fist visible through his hollowed stomach, lurching as he rooted around in Amarant's guts — and then collapsed, boneless, shuddering weakly. Auver shoved deeper, Amarant's whole body lurching with the force, wrist and then forearm starting to slip into his broken ass, messy squirts of come gushing out around the loose seal, squelching as Auver flexed and twisted his arm.

Auver had his rings on: the metal seemed hotter than his skin, flat and inflexible, with none of the give his flesh had. Auver pulled back, fist tearing out of Amarant's wrecked hole, and then shoved back in, slower. His rings caught this time, fat and blocky against the thick band of his asshole, each one a thick lump, heavy and hard, grinding over his stinging flesh as Auver worked back and forth, punch-fucking him.

A cock knocked across his face; Amarant jerked up, surprised, and Yahn just spread his mouth and shoved inside. He'd moved to the other side of the bed at some point. Clearly. He sucked, slobbering down the shaft, groans muffled as Yahn started thrusting.

Yahn fucked his face, grunting, groaning, punctuated with "fuck yeahs," or "yeah, like that"s, just as eager to get off for the third time as the first. Auver, though — he rooted around in his guts, ramming his fist deeper. Sure as hell not trying to get Amarant off, even as he groaned around Yahn's cock and blew again, prostate flattened by the latest punch. Not even trying to get himself off. It was like he was doing it because he _could_ , because he wanted to see Amarant take it.

Auver pulled his fist out with a squelch, come flooding out down his balls. Auver paused, fist still nocked against his broken asshole; laughed. "Lost a ring," he said, and yeah, Amarant could even feel which one when he reached inside: a big lumpy one he had on his littlest finger, a big fat knob just before the knuckle that wasn't there anymore. He shoved back inside, groping, fingers jabbing at the walls of Amarant's ass, following the curves of his internal muscles. His thumb squirmed against the opening to his guts; it spread easily, after having taken Yahn's cock. Another ring started to slip off, metal hotter than skin, a lumpy weight inside him as Auver breached the entrance to his guts, finger-fucking him, letting another ring slip off on purpose and then prying deeper to try and catch it. He punched inside, guts gurgling as he slammed his arm in nearly to the elbow.

Amarant jolted forward, the breath knocked from his lungs — he practically heatbutted Yahn, gurgling around the base of his cock, and Yahn let out a surprised "oof" and stumbled back, cock pulling from Amarant's throat with a rubbery pop. Amarant let out a hoarse groan, broken asshole screaming against the heft of Auver's forearm, flexing, huge block muscle contracting to its full size, grotesquely-stretched band of Amarant's ass clamped tight just above the elbow.

Auver pulled out like it was nothing, squirts of come gushing around his arm before his hand pulled out with a messy _schlop_ , leaving Amarant's gaping hole pulsing, throbbing between his cheeks. Amarant was dazed, eyes closed, concentrating on just breathing, guts churning like Auver was still inside him, muscles in his ass and back spasming, pushing out little squirts of come, dribbling down in a tacky flow to his balls.

The two shuffled around him, talking, and when a cockhead dug against his lips he spread his mouth wide. It dribbled pre, salt across his teeth, and when he opened his bleary eyes he just saw a smear of green, chunky abs flexing as whoever shifted above him.

Amarant's jaw was hanging open, a drooling hole, and the cock shoved inside, a hand spanning the back of his head pulling him down until the whole thing was sheathed in his throat with only a single gag, huge balls slapping against his chin. He grunted and groaned, fucking Amarant's face, sick slurps as his throat convulsed, slack mouth drooling across his pubes, bruised lips stinging with each thrust, stretched wide around his enormously fat shaft. A cockhead knocked against his ass, scraping across his hairy skin, sliding to his ravaged hole and sinking in effortlessly. Amarant just took it, the two of them rutting into him, mouth and ass broken open, wet spills of come gurgling out of him from both ends, body just a collection of holes for them to use. Amarant reached up, wrapped his hands around whoever was fucking his mouth, groping the rock-hard muscle of his ass and pulling him close, sheathing the entire length of his cock in his throat, tip gushing under his collarbone. Whoever it was groaned, hand wrapping around his throat, thrusting shallowly, keeping his cockhead buried all the way down his chest.

It didn't take long for him to come, pumping another load down Amarant's throat, slobbery weight sloshing as he added another mess of come to the churning mess inside him, stomach swollen to the point of strain, aching and stuffed. His heartbeat was fast and hard, throbbing against the inside of his ears, each gush of come a liquid rush, audible against his heartbeat.

Whoever pulled out, eventually, come coming out sheathed in thick filmy planes, sheets of clotted bubbles tethered across Amarant's face. Amarant collapsed to the side, frothy messy just stretching out between them, chunky cords sliding up across his mouth, tugging semisolid blobs up his throat, over his teeth. He breathed in burbling heaves, spitting up thick clots of come, impact across his face hot when the cords finally stretched to their breaking point and snapped. Looking up: it'd been Yahn still fucking his mouth, which meant it was Auver balls-deep in his ass. Not that it mattered much.

Auver came, eventually. Amarant took it, bed creaking under the thrusts, body feeling like so much pulverized meat, heavy and bruised. Gaping open where they fucked him. Auver roared. It was the first time he'd come, Amarant realized dimly, cock pulsing in his guts as he came and came, grunting and drooling across his back. Just as heavy — heavier — than Yahn's loads, absolutely flooding is ass. Wet weight piled up inside him, stinging now, and oozing out around his shaft in messy spurts. Amarant lay there as he finished, hands twisted up in the sheets, fingers clenching. Auver pulled out, stroking himself off with disgusting slurp-squelch, shaft lathered up by the messy slurry filling Amarant's ass, and sprayed thick ropes of come across his back, from his ass all the way up to his hair, dreads practically glued to his back by this point. Come burbled from his ass, a sloppy waterfall that just kept pouring out of him, spilling down his balls and soaking the bedsheets.

Then they switched off again. Auver stood in front of him, leering down. He spat, a mouthful of spit nothing compared to the mess slathered across his face already. "Ready for another load?"

"Yeah," Amarant croaked, throat raw, but still drooling in eagerness, spit slopping down his lower lip. Auver slapped his cock across his face, impact splattering droplets of slime all over, before lining his cock up and ramming it down Amarant's throat again, grabbing his head and mashing it down with enough force there was a _crunch_ in his nose when it met the muscled plane of his crotch.

Auver held Amarant there, limp save for the by-now regular gags, spit oozing in gushes around his stretched lips and splattering on Auver's pubes. He ground Amarant's head down, balls like cannonballs grinding against his chin, dislocated jaw twinging. He growled, fingertips grinding against Amarant's skull, and started thrusting, fucking the whole length of his cock down Amarant's throat, back and forth, using his body like an unresisting rag doll: each thrust ending with him ramming Amarant's head down on his cock. Amarant heaved, cockhead thumping down below his collarbone, spraying a clotted mess of spit and pre across Auver's crotch.

Auver pulled Amarant back off with a gurgle, until his cockhead tore from his bruised, split lips. He held it there just long enough to spit down, saliva spattering equally across Amarant's bruised, ravaged face and the taut dome of his cockhead, and then rammed back, the whole thing vanishing down Amarant's throat with a sickening warble, back and forth. His cock was like a steel rod, ramming its way through the convulsing barriers of his throat, muscles clenching and spasming as his body tried to reject him, spit him out, but he powered through, groaning at the slobbery suction. He tugged on Amarant's chin, one hand going down to feel his throat, wrapped around his trachea and squeezing when he slid down, throat just a thin layer of flesh sheathing his cock, bulging and distending with each thrust, each thrust wearing down the convulsive resistance, until his muscles stopped seizing: broken open, bruised and aching, throat just a gaping tunnel spread open to take his cock.

Auver didn't take long to come. "Fucking take it," he said, growling, and spat down into Amarant's hair even as his muscles started spasming, grip tightening, cockhead throbbing against his collarbone as he came again, keeping Amarant's head rammed tight against his crotch, soaked pubes grinding against Amarant's lips.

His cock pulsed, load added to the churning mess in his gut, fourth in a row straight down into his stomach, shot after shot, stomach gurgling, entire body feverish and shaking.

Dan had come more, but he'd only come _once_ ; after four — and with Yahn standing there, filthy cock in hand, half-dried flakes of come shedding like so much dandruff as he stroked himself, waiting his next turn, it looked like it was gonna be at least five — his stomach ached, swollen like he'd just eaten a meal.

Auver shuddered, the last dribble of his load painting Amarant's throat, and then he just shoved him back and let him fall back; cock pulling out scum-covered, foot-long cords of ooze stretching out from his cock, slowly spilling down to paint Amarant's face as he lay on his back, gasping. There was none of the resistance of before; throat taut to bursting sheathing his cock: inside he just fell off, pulling off in a single slick motion, the entire length sliding free without a single hitch, fat cockhead not even catching on his lips.

Amarant tried to swallow; his throat was sloshing, clogged, absolutely flooded with come, broken muscles giving no resistance as come gurgled up from his overfilled stomach. It burned, sharp pain as his throat jogged, and still he gagged and spat up, thicker cords of slimy come hanging from his busted mouth, jiggling as they slowly stretched out between his face and Auver's cock, snapping to swing down and splat against his chest.

He tipped his head back, slime pouring to the back of his throat, swallowing — over and over, Adam's apple jogging up and down — just stirring it in place, thick ooze crackling in his mouth as he tried to drink it down. The instant he stopped he gagged, coughed, unexpectedly productive: a messy flood of come spraying from his mouth, drooling down his chin. He slobbered, more come squirting up after that, flooding his mouth and pouring steadily over his bruised lips, a solid sheet of come spilling down his face, beard glossy. He tried to breathe, a rattle cut off into a soggy slurp as he sucked come into his airways, mouth open, silently choking on the overflow of drool making its way up his throat in gag after gag. Amarant shuddered, sputtering and drooling, reaching into his open mouth and trying to pull the watery mess of come from his throat, just gagging and splitting across his hands, squeezing down on nothing.

"Looks like we filled him up," Yahn said from behind him, arms suddenly hooking under his, pulling him back against Yahn's chest — shoulders back, back bent, so his bloated stomach stood out in sharp relief. The swollen skin of his stomach pulled taut, extra pressure on his gut making him spit and gurgle, frothy lines of come pouring continually from his mouth, spilling down his chest in little spatters of heat, face and chest a frothy mess of painted-on scum.

Auver sat forward, hands rough across his swollen gut, pushing down hard — a wet _slorp_ from deep in Amarant's gut, stomach churning, slime squirting up his ravaged throat. Amarant spat up, breath rattling between heaves, spilling in a frothy mess down his bare chest. "Sure does," Auver said, hands roving up and down Amarant's swollen stomach, squeezing and groping across the fat curve of his gut. Auver pressed down, another gush of come tearing up Amarant's throat, and then drew back, just staring for a second as Amarant choked and gurgled on nothing before he cocked his fist and rammed it right into Amarant's gut. The impact sounded like meat being tenderized. Amarant gagged, doubling over — Yahn let him fall — and puked hard, clotted come bursting from his mouth in a sludgy gush, splattering across Auver's chest, drooling down in thick rivers.

Auver grabbed his head by the chin, skin slick and dripping, and gripped his neck, lifting him up and squeezing — airways cut off, each gag producing nothing but a sickening lurch in his gut, wet churning sound gurgling up from his stomach, mouth open and drooling, body thrashing — until Auver tossed him aside, crashing onto the bed, impact hard all across his side. Auver said something, ended with a laugh, and Amarant heaved and spat, breathless as he vomited up their combined loads, gasping and gurgling, foggy mind only processing sound seconds later: _Doesn't look like he can take any more_ , he'd said.

Amarant went down on all fours, drooling, stomach audibly sloshing as he sunk forward, mess of come and drool spilling from his lips. His stomach rolled sickeningly, a heave wracking his body, gagging once, twice, before he vomited, a frothy slurry of come erupting from his mouth and nose. He heaved, eyes watering, stomach hollowing, arms shuddering, hollow sucking noises gurgling up from his throat as he sprayed the sheets with a flood of frothy come.

Auver said something, noise in his ears, and he rolled his head towards the sound, eyes not focusing, room a blurry mess of interlocking colors. Ooze drooled from his mouth, wet gags running through his body, sputtering as he coughed up whatever was left in his stomach, salt-sour cords of come. His nose was clogged, sinuses throbbing, fluid slowly pouring from his nose in thick cords, eyes watering, stinging in the light. He tried breathing, wet rattle setting off another series of coughs, thick chunks of coagulated come oozing over his teeth, smearing across his beard.

He heaved again, stomach churning and sloshing, only beginning to empty out as he puked up the two's combined loads, body working on reflex: shuddering heaves; body reflexively gasping for breath and sucking half of the thick mess back down his throat, clogging his airways. He gurgled, nothing left in his lungs, grey sparks flashing across his vision. He face was painted grimy off-white, plastered in a thick layer of come, eyes dazed and unfocused. Thick cords of come oozed from his nose and slack mouth, lips bruised brilliantly red.

He gurgled, stomach churning, coughing and coughing until he could suck in a rattling breath, sound coming back to the world with a rush, aware he'd been staring down at the sheets as he heaved. He drew half a breath before he choked, but now he was coughing, each one dredging up sludgy goo from his throat and lungs, coughing and spitting and coughing more, brutalized throat burning with each spasm. He breathed raggedly through his mouth; he snorted, cords of snot and come shooting out, come-clogged sinuses emptying, just more sludge added to the mess across the sheets, thick bubbles of come oozing from his nostrils with each breath. His arms were shaking, trembling just from holding his own weight, and he went down onto his elbows as he heaved again, stomach clenching as he spewed thick come down onto the sheets, backsplash a hundred hot dots speckling across his face and chest, chunky cords of slime smeared across his face, slowly drooling the inch or two down to the bed.

He gasped for breath, each inhale cutting like a knife, come burning down his windpipe in between heaves as he finished emptying his stomach, a thick mound of come piling up over his forearms, what had to be a gallon poured out in a sloppy mess. He looked up, face covered in scum, seeing the two brothers only as green bands of color as he wobbled and toppled, just enough presence of mind to fall to the side instead of directly into the thick pile of come.

He gagged again, a final gush of come flooding up his throat, spraying across the sheets, and lay there for a long moment, just focusing on each breath: the raw pain of each inhale; the rattle in his lungs, the soggy squelch of the sheets against his stomach. Eventually he dragged himself up, dreads plastered in place across his shoulders and back, slowly pulling back from near-unconsciousness.

He sat up on his haunches, snorting, still breathing hard. His nose burned, a hot trickle that might be come or might be blood but was probably both dribbling from his nose, thick flow hitting his busted lip and stinging like mad. He grinned at Auver, head lolling on his neck like a bobble toy, loose. He coughed again, an entire mouthful's worth of slime gurgling up from his abused throat, and he spat it on the sodden sheets, thinned ooze spilling down his chin. He wiped his lip with the back of his hand, just smearing the thick, sloppy layer of come into his burning split lip. "That all you got?" he said, throat rasping, voice hoarse almost to the point of incoherency.

"Oh, I'll show you what we got," Auver said, shoving Amarant down onto his side; the sodden mattress just sunk under him, sludge bubbling out to outline his body. Auver followed him onto the bed, grabbing his hips and pulling his ass back against the root of his cock, the still-hard length dribbling pre down his back. He leaned forward, chest pressed to Amarant's back, grabbed his head and shoved two fingers inside: "Guess your mouth is all used up," he said, twisting his fingers around, knuckle deep, jabbing the back of Amarant's throat just to see him gag and tear up, drool spilling freely down his neck and chest, smearing through the slathered mess of come. His other hand dug into his hip, grinding his cock harder against his ass. "But you got another hole left to wreck, don't you?"

Auver mounted him like an animal, snarling, knees digging into the wrecked mattress, back hunched over him. Practically burying Amarant under his body. His cockhead slid up his crack to the pulsing knot of his hole, digging against it and then slamming forward, burying his entire length in a single brutal thrust.

Auver pinned him to the filthy sheets, left hand burning hot tugging the edge of his hip, canting them up, ass in the air to meet his immense thighs with each thrust, a _crack_ and a sting of pain as he hammered into his guts.

Amarant groaned, back arching, and Auver reached for him, hand on his shoulder sliding forward, Auver's meaty chest pressed against his shoulder blades, right arm wrapped around his neck in a chokehold, pulled back to arch Amarant's back. He jerked backwards, sitting back on his haunches and dragging Amarant with him, hoisting him up by the thighs, hole stretching into a sloppy oval, a frothy mess of come squirting out as Auver dragged Amarant upright. Putting him on display for Yahn, Amarant realized, dazed. His legs were spread, back arched; Yahn could probably see Auver fucking him, every thrust sliding up inside him.

"We opened him up pretty good," Auver said, still thrusting, words punctuated with the wet clap of his thighs against Amarant's ass, fat cheeks compressing as Auver bore down, til his pubes ground against the rim of his hole, coarse and scratchy even soaked with come. "I bet we can both fit." He tugged Amarant's dangling balls out of the way so he could slide his fingers down to his already-stuffed hole, claws digging into the aching flesh, worming their way underneath the sloppy furl. Amarant groaned, eyes dazed, and Auver wrapped his other arm around his neck, pulling him back in a headlock, teeth clamping down on the meat of his shoulder, biting down so hard he was sure it drew blood, a sharp pain blossoming from the points of pressure, slickness — drool and blood and come — spilling down his back, slurping between them as Auver rammed up inside him, meaty chest pressed against his back. Amarant moaned, squirming to get Auver to bite down harder, cock knifing up from his crotch, pubes soaked dark with other peoples' come, a throb running down his chest: from Auver's teeth in his neck straight to his cock, pulsing as Auver practically chewed.

Auver pulled his teeth out, a spray of spit flecking Amarant's shoulder, bite mark throbbing. "See? He loves it."

Yahn stepped forward, cock slinging to the side with his steps, immense balls jostling against his thighs, the motion hypnotizing to Amarant's dazed mind; he found himself staring at Yahn's cock, following it down as Yahn knelt on the edge of the bed — the entire sodden mattress tilting down towards him as he climbed on. Amarant listed forward, shoulders hitting Yahn's chest before Yahn grabbed him.

One hand slid down his stomach, building up a torrent of sludge that poured across his dick as Yahn gave him a few sloppy strokes, just tugging on his dick, thick ooze bubbling between his fingers. He grabbed Amarant's chin and tipped his head up, walking closer on his knees, cockhead bouncing, slapping against Amarant's stomach and then hitting and staying, sliding up his stomach as Yahn pressed against him, sweaty skin trapping the burning heat billowing up from his overheated body. Yahn leaned down and pressed his mouth to Amarant's, hands tugging his jaw open as he plunged his tongue into his mouth, fat thing filling it entirely. It scraped across his teeth, collecting the sloppy mess of come stuck between his lips and teeth, swiping it up and smearing it back into his mouth, thick salt-sour taste. Yahn moaned loud, rumbling down his chest as he pressed against Amarant's front, sandwiching him between the two.

Yahn broke the kiss, pulled back with their faces tethered together by cords of slime, absolutely coating Amarant's bedraggled face. Yahn waved his hand between them, catching sludge across his fingers, and smeared the tarry mess back across Amarant's neck, slurping under his fingers. His thumb dragged across Auver's bite mark and Amarant shuddered with his entire body, making a sharp groan, and Yahn grinned and leaned forward to bite down right over the bloody mark, Amarant crying out, head thrown back, muscles spasming around Yahn's teeth.

Auver didn't stay still while Yahn moved into place: his huge hands spread across Amarant's ass cheeks, sodden hair grinding as Auver gripped and pulled, fingers shoving into his already-occupied hole, hooking over the swollen mound of his bloated rim and spreading it even wider, bruised flesh swollen into wrinkled slabs spreading out, drawing taut and then slowly tearing wider in jerky, lurching spurts. "C'mon, shove it in," he said to Yahn, and Yahn leered at Amarant, cockhead twitching, batting against Amarant's stomach, gushing pre down his stomach, each minute twitch of his cock a full-on gush of pre, erupting in bigger spurts than Amarant came, a constant burble of watery heat pouring down his body.

Yahn leaned in, cock slipping lower, under Amarant's taut balls, rutting against his slime-slathered skin back between his things until his cockhead made contact, dimpling against the underside of Auver's shaft, domed cockhead digging against Amarant's gaping hole, slurping and gurgling as come poured out of him: Yahn's cockhead shoved against his hole, grinding hard, not quite stretched enough to take it, and pulled back webbed with a frothy mess of their loads, syrupy come from him or his brother dribbling down his shaft. Auver yanked harder, shocks of pain jerking up Amarant's spine as his hole bowed out, Yahn rutting up inside him simply from the sheer gape, cockhead sliding over Auver's fingers as he thrust inside, rather than Amarant's flesh. His cock twitched, a solid lurch against the inside of Amarant's ass, and Amarant just groaned, head hung low, as Yahn slid inside, brutally fat cock boring deeper inside.

Amarant's hole was broken wide, gaping even around their enormous girths, Auver's fingers hooked over the rim of his ass and stretching, but further inside — Yahn's cockhead butted against the opening of his guts, the two of them shifting, jostling him up and down as they both tried to fit, the opening to his guts spread first by one and then another gigantic, fist-sized cockhead, back and forth, soft sucking noises coming from his broken guts with each trade-off, stomach rising and falling as the two vied for space. Finally they both just _shoved_ , Amarant letting out a pained groan as their cockheads dug against the gaping opening to his guts, four hands across his hips dragging him down, until with a flash of heat so strong it felt like he'd been ripped asunder the two cocks slurped into his guts, twin cockheads pulsing like a second heart beating in the center of his bruised and abused guts as he jerked down, ass swallowing their shafts to the root.

Amarant just groaned soundlessly, mouth hanging open, sharp breathless noises coming from his throat as the two of them hilted inside him, body surrounded on all sides by hot sweaty flesh, teeth and claws ripping at his skin. One of them rolled their hips, Amarant rising like he was riding a wave, cock a sharp spear stabbing against his insides, lewd gurgle coming from his gaping ass as the other drew back, cockhead popping out from his guts only to shove right back in: thrusts, erratic and halting and first but stronger each time, cocks pistoning up and down inside him, their combined girth so gigantic it felt like they were carving out room inside him with each thrust, the swell of his come-swollen gut rising and falling, distended by the sheer size of their cocks.

Amarant whined, sharp high broken noises. He huffed for breath, gasping as the two of them pumped up into him, each thrust dragging out a groan. "Unh... unh... unh," Amarant said, forehead pressed against Yahn's shoulder, eyes closed. "C'mon," he panted. "Come in me."

Auver brayed out a laugh. "Oh I'm gonna pump you full of my load alright." He swiped down, fingers smearing through the mess of come already oozing out of Amarant's gaping hole, shoving two fingers in alongside their cocks, tugging at the rim of his already-stretched hole.

He couldn't say how long they both fucked him, body a limp rag doll, pinned between them as they tore into him, gaping asshole steadily drooling the loads already shot up inside him, lathering into a dense cream clinging to their skin. Auver kept biting him, shoulders a mess of bloody wounds, laughing with his teeth sunk into his flesh as Amarant groaned each time, cock stubbornly hard, smacking against Yahn's stomach.

They came like a wash, grunts and roars mixing in with the sick _schlop_ of their thrusts, already-flooded guts aching as they pumped another few quarts of come into him, sloppily pouring out around their churning cocks. Maybe they came more than once; Amarant was only blearily aware, guts cramped, body exhausted, mostly unconscious.

Eventually there was a wet, meaty _schlop_ as Auver's cock pulled from Amarant's ravaged hole, ring spasming as his fat cockhead caught for a fraction of a second, before releasing him with a flood of slime, busted ring slurping inside-out without any resistance, a lurch high up in his guts as they spooled out, bloated red slabs of meat piling up on top of each other between his cheeks. Yahn had pulled out already, at some point, just cold air in front of him — Amarant cracked his eyes open, dim candlelight too bright, and caught him watching, seated on the only chair in the room, tugging his cock lazily. Just keeping himself hard.

"I think my brother wants his turn," Auver said, voice loud, teeth scraping the shell of his ear. "Why don't you go over there and sit on his dick?"

Amarant's muscles screamed as he moved, arms and legs like lead weights, shoulders bloody. He was still bleeding from all the bite marks, smeared streaks of red down his chest; he couldn't have been unconscious long. He crawled to the edge of the bed, leaning down, and the shift of weight when his dreads spilled from his back almost sent him hurtling to the floor. His legs gave out under him the second they tried to bear his weight. He collapsed onto the floor in a messy puddle, panting, thighs spasming wildly.

Auver grabbed him by the neck, suddenly there, and dragged him to his feet, shoving him forward for a few tottering steps before he collapsed again. Something wet splattered across his face, and Amarant raised his bleary eyes: he was just in front of Yahn's seat, face-to-face with his cock, hand stroking slowly. Pre burbled from the tip, winding its way down the shaft, filthy from a half-dozen orgasms, shaft given a glazed shine by all the layers of half-dried come worked into the skin. Amarant groaned, sinking the inch forward it took, nuzzling along Yahn's shaft, tongue lapping at the base, soaked in salt — sweat and come, taste so strong it stung, rancid in his abused throat.

Yahn laughed, one that turned into a groan when Amarant lapped up the underside of his cock, over his stroking fingers, and took the head into his mouth, catching the messy spurt of pre across his tongue.

Auver, though, wasn't satisfied — he grabbed Amarant under his arms and hauled him to his feet. "Ride it," Auver said and shoved him against Yahn's chest, half-stumbling as the two positioned him like a life-sized doll, no resistance from his exhausted body as they settled him on Yahn's cock, the whole thing sinking into his broken ass effortlessly.

Amarant's exhausted thighs screamed as he struggled to lift himself even an inch up, hole and guts spasming around Yahn's cock. It twitched inside him, wet streamers of pre spilling hot down the walls of his ass, building up against the spasming muscle of his asshole, eventually pressure bursting out, slurping and squelching as it flooded out down Yahn's balls, thick dollops of come hitting the floorboards with a messy patter of _splat_ s. Yahn ground into him, not thrusting exactly, hips moving slow, practically just stirring his cock inside Amarant's wrecked ass, exhausted body barely capable of staying upright.

Yahn laughed a little, and pulled Amarant close, skin audibly slurping when their chests touched, a wet crackle. "Looks like I'm gonna have to do all the work," he said, hands already creeping down his sides, and pressed a kiss to Amarant's filthy mouth, licking up the mess of the combined loads still drooling from his throat, coughed up in globs, thinned by his drool.

Yahn grabbed Amarant's cheeks, fingers digging into his cleft, and bodily lifted Amarant up off his cock — body just spilling forward, dead weight, thrown over Yahn's shoulder as he lifted Amarant up. His cock pulled out with a _pop_ , a thick ooze of come pouring out of him, and Yahn worked his fingers inside. His ass was well and truly swollen, worked-open hole an immense, thick band of bruised muscle. Yahn hooked his fingers around it and pulled, stretching Amarant to gaping, cold air billowing up inside him, come gurgling out, coating Yahn's hands in a slick lather, sloppy against his palms.

There was a shift in the air, hot air hitting the exposed walls of his ass, and Amarant didn't realize what was happening until Yahn's cockhead knocked against the walls of his ass: his hole was stretched so wide Yahn had lowered him down onto his cock and it hadn't even touched him until he was halfway inside. His fingers clenched, digging into the puffy flesh of his ass, reaching deeper for a better hold: six fingers buried knuckle deep in his ass, pinkies and thumbs rubbing against the outer ridge, all Amarant's weight carried on his palms, spread over the cheeks of his ass. His fingers pulled him wider, shocky-feeling sparks of pain as his broken asshole gaped wider, spread to the utmost. Yahn's cock knocked around, head sliding back and forth across the bottom of his ass, the rest of it only rarely twitching and pressing against his flesh, ass all but hollowed out. Yahn found the entrance to his guts, a second clenching hole deep inside him — what sufficed for his asshole now, given how broken his actual asshole was. Yahn jerked Amarant down, cock popping into his guts with a squelch, peristaltic muscle convolutions milking the shaft. "Yeah," he said, starting to thrust, cockhead lurching back and forth into his guts. "That's more like it." He bottomed out, pubes grinding against Amarant's bruised flesh, half his cock rammed up into his guts. There was a _pop_ when he pulled out, cockhead catching on the broken entrance to his guts, a plume of hot come just splattering across the walls of his ass, slowly dribbling down.

Yahn kept him steady, Amarant sprawled boneless across his shoulder, ass an open socket for his cock. He rammed inside, guts gurgling and slurping, thick slime oozing from his ass continually, smearing in scummy lines over Yahn's hands, buried to the knuckle in his busted ass.

His thrusts started slow and got fast, jarring slaps that ground his pubes against the ravaged flesh of Amarant's hole, balls jostling against the puffy flesh like he was trying to shove them up inside him too. Amarant's body jerked with each thrust, just dead weight, the impact shoving him a half-inch higher sprawled over Yahn's shoulder, only to sink back down when he withdrew. Yahn groaned, cock twitching and spurting, fingers clenching, as he found his rhythm and started jackhammering away, cockhead ramming into his guts and jerking back out with a pop, over and over. The entrance to his guts ached, taking the full brunt of each thrust. Amarant could feel it start to gape, blossoming open. Yahn's cockhead caught on the withdraw, the stretched flesh of his guts clinging tight around the huge cockhead. Yahn ripped out with a sharp yank that made Amarant's guts lurch sickeningly, squirming in his stomach. Each time there was less resistance, Yahn's cockhead coming out easier.

Amarant gasped, stomach hollowing, and with each breath his guts shifted, jerked downwards with thrust after thrust, abused flesh slowly sliding over itself. It was a heat descending, his own guts folding in on themselves, gurgling and churning. There was a moment of contact, flattened guts spilling against the clenching muscle opening into his ass, a sloppy blossom of heat settling in his belly — and then Yahn rammed in; pulled out with a rubbery _pop_ , and with a final lurch his guts came with it, slithering inside him like a snake.

Yahn jerked back, tempo staggering, and laughed: half his cock still embedded in the prolapsed furl of Amarant's guts, a messy pile of meat bulging out from his body, the hairs on his ass scratchy against the raw flesh of his guts. It pulsed, throbbing in time with his heartbeat, abused muscles inside him tugging up, trying vainly to suck his guts back into their proper place. His stomach felt oddly hollow, less resistance, and his experimental, fluttering clench of his abs just shoved his guts further out of place, a meaty slurp as the bloated flower of his prolapsed ass unfurled another inch.

Yahn shifted Amarant's weight to one hand, the other pulling from inside his pulped guts, stroking the lumpy red rose of his guts down to the center, where the unfurled bud was wrapped around his cock. He pushed his fingers inside, peeling Amarant's guts off his cock — coming free with a spray of ooze, gushing from Amarant's broken ass. Yahn felt across the broad mass of his prolapse, formerly-internal smooth muscles pulsing and shuddering, squirming and fluttering against his palm, drooling down his wrist.

"I think we broke him." His fingers probed the edge of the swell, sliding over lumpy folds til he found the center of the crater, the inside-out passage running up inside. He shoved deeper, feeling through the mess of bruised flesh until he found the nut of Amarant's prostate, ground against it with two fingertips, hard. Amarant let out an exhausted groan, body spasming, cock somehow finding a remaining reservoir; pumping out something thin and watery against Yahn's chest in a few agonizing spasms.

"That part still works," he observed.

He knocked his cockhead against Amarant's spread rosebud, wet slurps as the flesh parted, and he shoved back inside, thrusting experimentally. "No good," he said, cock jerking out in a spray of come. "Man, we really broke you open, huh?" Amarant's response was just a groan, hands loosely clenching the back of the chair.

He slid his hand down his slimy shaft, probing into Amarant's prolapse, fingers scissoring open. He thrust back inside, and then wrapped his fat fingers around the stubby coil of Amarant's guts, squeezing until he could feel the bar of his cock through the wet mess of pulpy flesh. He spread his fingers, squeezing harder — thick purple-red swells between his fingers, bloating out as his fist clenched. Yahn was practically jerking himself off, using Amarant's guts as a sleeve — thumb digging through the thick layer of flesh to grind against the underside of his cockhead, and he threw his head back and groaned, a pulse of pre gushing across Amarant's ravaged flesh, stinging as it slowly trickled through the sloppy folds of his prolapsed ass. "Fuck, that's better," he said, thrusting again, squeezing hard, letting Amarant list to the side of he half stroked himself off, jerking his cock up through the lumpy swell of flesh oozing out of him, hilting with half his cock shoved inside Amarant's body cavity at least, the rest jammed into his prolapsed guts.

After that it didn't lake long. Yahn came with a groan, and even though Amarant had lost count of how many times he'd shot off it was as copious as ever, a soggy flood gurgling up in his wrecked guts, stinging and burning now, thick slimy ropes oozing out from the folds of his prolapse as Yahn spend his latest load, pulling out to paint ropes across his ass, shockingly hot where it landed in stripes across his spilled guts. They were practically tethered together, thick slimy cords from this load and all the others oozing from Amarant's ass, forming ropes two fingers thick, webbed all across their thighs. He pulled out of Amarant — hand wrapped around his prolapse to make sure he didn't just drag Amarant's guts two feet out of his body — and stepped back, leaving Amarant lying across the bed, plastered head to toe in come, a wet outline around his body where the weight of his body forced come out of the saturated mattress.

"We really did a number on you, huh?" Yahn said, leaning in to run a hand up his thigh, over the blossoming bruises across his hip, gingerly reaching back to touch the pulpy flesh of his guts. He sounded a little ashamed, more proud. "You got a nice fucking ass though."

Auver stepped closer, looking down, and then laughed, short and mean, and reached down into the furl of Amarant's broken ass. "There's my ring," he said, and tugged it out of him, stuck between two folds of flesh. Then he reached inside, probing — got the other one, too, and when he pulled back it was with another sickening lurch, more flesh spilling out of him, blossom of his guts heavy bearing down against his ass. Auver smeared his palm over the distended mess of flesh between his cheeks, fingers playing over the inside-out flesh of his hole, wrinkled flesh spasming and twitching, muscles no longer in a position where it made sense for them to _clench_. Auver hooked his fingers into the gape of his ass and spread him open, guts unfurling, spread open for anyone to see all the way up inside him if they wanted. The slurry of come up inside him sluggishly poured out, winding down deeper inside, forming a thick, sludgy lake inside his ass and only slowly overflowing to ooze from the raw, pulpy mess of his hole.

"Guess we can't get much more use out of him," Yahn said, and he sounded honestly sad about it, looking down at Amarant panting hoarsely on the bed, stomach unnaturally hollowed, prolapse like a second head of wrinkled red flesh spilling between his cheeks, flesh shuddering and sliding over itself as his body vainly tried to pull itself back into its proper shape. "What a good fuckin' lay, though." He slapped Amarant's ass. "Definitely check you out next time we're in town." He tried cramming his limp cock back in his pants, an obscene lump running down his thigh, balls a lopsided lump too big to fit in the crotch. "You said we should get out of town...?" he said, turning to Auver, who was dragging his pants on, shirt unbuttoned.

Auver looked over at Amarant, smirk on his face. "Yeah. Hear there's somebody out hunting for us."

Yahn took a few steps to the door, looking across the room like he was trying to see if he forgot anything. "We done?"

"Yeah, we're done," Auver said over his shoulder, wiping his cock across Amarant's hairy ass cheek as he hiked up his pants, smearing the dregs of his load on top of the crusted, tacky layers drying there. "Be out in a second."

With Yahn out of the room Auver just leered down at Amarant's wrecked form for a moment. He reached down and shoved Amarant onto his back, grinning more as Amarant shuddered and writhed, hips jerking up to keep the swollen furl of his prolapse from getting crushed under his weight. He hocked and spat down, spit flecking across Amarant's already-filthy skin. "See what kinda bounty hunter you are now, huh?" Auver snorted and turned to the door. "You're a good whore at least."

Amarant pushed himself up. His arms hurt, just as exhausted as the rest of him, but he still had enough in him for that at least. His shoulders were all torn and bloody, teeth marks all across the slope of his shoulders and up his neck; pushing himself made all the wounds scream. He tensed his back, shifting his legs, and the throb there ran down his spine as hot sparks, concentrating on the broken furl of his prolapsed hole, red flesh peeking out between his cheeks. "Don't talk shit you can't cash," he said. It took a second for his throat to work — he warbled, strangled-cat noises coming out. He spat, spitting grimy grey-yellow, threaded through with pink, onto the sheets. Auver had frozen in place; he turned around slowly.

Amarant grinned: split lip tearing wider, a hot spill of blood slowly dripping down into his beard. "You don't think I coulda taken you, again? If I wanted I coulda kicked your asses from here to the bounty office." He reached up — wobbling with only one arm to support him — and felt his nose: not broken, but just. It hurt all across his cheeks; he probably had quite the bruise blossoming. The bruises on his hips were already vivid, huge blue-purple hand prints; there were teeth marks all over his shoulders where they weren't straight-up _wounds_. He licked his lips, tasting blood and come. "Don't think you're so hot just 'cause I wanted to use your dick."

Auver's brow dropped, and he bared his teeth in an angry sneer, leaning forward to glower down at Amarant — then he threw his shoulders back and _laughed_ , a donkey-bray kind of affair. "Is that so?" He reached forward, grabbing a hank of Amarant's dreads and tugging him forward, his exhausted body just going without any resistance, back bending in a sharp arch.

"You feel like a rematch anytime soon?" His other hand rammed into Amarant's ass, punching through his prolapsed ring, fingers skewering deep: slamming into Amarant's broken ass up to the elbow in a single savage drive. He _grabbed_ , wrapping a fistful of Amarant's pulped guts around his hand, and drew back and forth, punch-fucking him as he rearranged his intestines, gut bulging grotesquely, only to hollow out unnaturally as he pulled feet of guts out with his clenched fist. "How's that working?" he growled against Amarant's shoulder, body tensed right as he rammed forward, punching deep into Amarant's guts with the entire force of his body.

Amarant's entire body convulsed, eyes rolling up into his head, and he came again, just a few wet dribbles oozing onto the sodden sheets, hoarse rasps filling the room. Auver laughed again and let him drop, fist opening, pulling out with a wrench — his hole trying to squeeze shut, just pushing out pulse after pulse of come. He smacked Amarant's ass, hard enough his body rocked, and then again with his nails out, raking a ragged line across his hairy cheeks, sharp lines of pain following in the wake, a stinging wet trickle that could be blood or could just be more come sluicing out of him.

"But you know what? Good to know. That you're more interested in taking a ride on our dicks than turning in our bounty." Auver leered, hands tugging his limp cock, shifting it to hang to the left, turgid weight hitting his thigh with a solid _thwack_ , finally tucking it back into his pants and tying his impromptu belt — the rope Amarant'd used to bind his arms. "Anytime you wanna use our dicks, feel free. Next time we're in town, we'll fuck you again, how about that?"

Amarant flopped over, glowering up at Auver. "Don't push your luck."

Auver laughed again. "I think I oughtta be the one saying that to you," he said, reaching forward to run his fingers over the ring of purpling bruises all around Amarant's neck, overlapped hand prints. He pushed none too gently on Amarant's windpipe, grinning as his labored breath turned into a rattle. "You're into some nasty shit, huh?" He shoved Amarant back abruptly, letting him land with a wet thud on the saturated bed. "Guess that works out, 'cause there's all sorts of nasty shit I'm gonna do to you next time."

There were footsteps as he turned away; a wave Amarant caught out of the corner of his eye. "See you then," Auver said, and shut the door behind him.

Honestly. Amarant would be looking forward to it. Too bad they weren't staying. Fuck, it was gonna be nothing but fantasies for the next fucking month, wasn't it? Just his luck.

After they left, he blacked out though. Probably just for a few minutes, body exhausted after what he'd gotten them to do to it. The bed was still a liquid mess, skin clammy with cooling come, and with the adrenaline of fucking gone he really started to ache, starp stabbing pains in his guts like they'd left glass shards up inside him.

Amarant staggered to his feet, wobbling and crashing against the wall as he tried to stand, adding a raw burn from scraping across the exposed brick to his list of injuries. Come spilled out of him, gape nestled between his cheeks, and Amarant just stayed where he'd ended up leaning against the wall, breathing hard, as he gingerly reached back and tried to shove a handspan worth of bloated red guts back into his body, soggy flesh furling over itself, furling over his fingers, as he shoved up and in. His hand slipped into his ass — wrist kinked at an awkward angle, hand sliding inside him easy as breathing — easier, given his ragged, uneven rasp. He tugged, ass nearly prolapsing again just from that, hand emerging with a sloppy gush of come, stinging as it sluiced down over his broken asshole. He was leaking continuously, a steady pour that grew into squirts every time he tried moving, thick clots of half-coagulated come drenching his thighs, crusted in his leg hair.

Even with his guts inside him they still didn't feel right, a fat tangle of broken flesh in a big lump below his hips, stomach unnaturally hollow. It'd be good enough to see him home, at least. Probably. He took a wobbling step, guts squelching and grinding inside him, pressure shifting bizarrely all up and down his stomach, and he had to stop for another minute to lean back against the wall and pant.

His pants were lying next to the bed: the thought of bending down to get them, much less the work of pulling them onto his soaked and grimy legs, seemed impossible. He went down on his knees rather than bend at the waist; he got the feeling if he tried that he'd just about shit out his guts.

He got dressed, slowly. Time was a concern: it'd be a hassle if somebody came by to check on the room while he was still in it, but... that didn't seem likely, given the place. Still, the thought of it had him working faster than he should have, winding himself with hasty twists of his chest. He was still a mess: dreads all plastered to his back, come crusted in congealing layers all across his face and chest, pants soaked dark in big oozing, glossy patches all down his thighs, big grubby bubbles of grey come oozing all the way through the fabric.

He shambled his way out and down, limping all the way back through the cold night to his place. He was a panting mess by the time he got back, sweat keeping the come from entirely crusting over. His legs were trembling like they were really about to give out on him, and the lurching churn of his busted guts was only getting more painful as time went on.

He slammed his shoulder into his door to open it, and swiping a flask from a low shelf was his only detour as he crashed into the bathroom, slinging himself with a final bone-rattling jar into the big tin tub he used as a bath.

He groaned, cold metal warming under the unnatural heat of his body, and popped the flask, drinking down a bitter swig, foul and herbal. Healing potion. It hurt a whole lot more than getting them had: here alone, in the dark, no sex to give it a good edge. He thought about pouring the rest across his shoulders, healing up the bite marks that had scabbed into nearly-black crescents, shoulders and neck a mess of angry red bruises. Nah. He wanted to keep those.

He slumped lower, angling his ass up, until he was lying on the bottom of the tub, legs sprawled nearly entirely out. He reached up, finger probing past his balls, reaching back to dig into the puffy, brutalized flesh of his broken asshole. And then, with his hand as a guide, he just lifted the flask and upended it, shoving the lip into his ass, letting the potion drool down into his ass. _That_ hurt; his ass burning like he'd just poured lemon juice all over, enough that he let out a sharp cry. In the darkness the potion was just-barely illuminated by the lamp outside, enough to see a slow bubble rise in the thick fluid, half of it spilling out into his ass, mixing with the mess of come still puddled inside him.

There was a second or two, just feeling the heavy, syrupy weight of it flood into his guts, before it hit. His guts _squirmed_ , churning inside him like snakes, slithering up and down as they lurched back into their proper place. Amarant groaned, eyes clenched shut, breathing in sharp gasps as the magical healing did its thing, a cold sweat breaking out all over. Loops of intestines shuddered inside him, his blown asshole clenching and swallowing around the neck of the bottle as it gurgled inside him, fluid feeling burning hot as it rearranged his guts.

Amarant lay back, back of his head hitting the lip of the tub with a clang. Without the endorphins or the pain keeping him awake, his body was all but dragging him down into slumber, sprawled out naked in the tub, every limb feeling like it had lead weights attached. He smeared his head against his shoulder, sweat and come half-dried into a tarry layer of gunk that smeared like thick oil, but if the bare tin tub wasn't enough to get him to move, the itch as the gunk dried didn't have a chance.

Fucking Auver, though. They weren't gonna be back in town for _weeks_.


End file.
